“Wait a minute,” Theo said, something clicking. “I remember a few years ago coming into work, and I found my mother crying on the phone. She told me the son of a friend of hers from college had died. She said she was pretty sure he was murdered.”
Ivy nodded.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Sweetheart. You’re a brilliant attorney and an asset to the firm, but why did my mother really hire you?”
Ivy smiled at his unexpected endearment.
“Kim called my mother a few weeks ago and told her a witch had petitioned the Council for membership. Raina.”
“Fuck!”
“I came here to stop her.”
CHAPTER 8
Theo was still reeling from yesterday’s events. He was high on giddiness from being newly mated to the angel who had haunted his dreams for the past seventeen years, no less. Despite his current happy mood, his anger was palpable. Five people were responsible for the attempted murder of his mate, and only one of them was dead. He thirsted for the blood of the rest.
But not today. Today, he would kick some ass in court. Tomorrow, God help the fuckers who were responsible, especially Raina.
“All rise.”
The occupants of the courtroom stood as polar bear shifter, Judge Newland Harris, entered the courtroom. Theo’s client, Konstantin Petrov, nervously tugged on the cuffs of his tailor-cut suit.
“Relax,” Theo whispered to him.
Cletus Ermine, in all his pompous glory, flashed him his weaselly smile.
Yeah, you keep smiling, you cocky bastard. All the sweeter when I wipe it off your face.
“Be seated.”
Everyone but Ermine took their seats.
“Your Honor,” he began, “We are here to make sure justice is served. For what is justice if we can’t be free of the criminal element in this great city?”
Theo rolled his eyes. What a pretentious douchebag. And what the fuck was up with that hair gel? His hair was saturated in what smelled like a dollar store brand way past its shelf life. He didn’t miss the slight grimace on the judge’s face.
“Your Honor, I will prove that Mr. Petrov has been meeting with gangsters. Not only that, but Konstantin Petrov is working for the Ivanovich bratva, a branch of organized crime that has infiltrated our shores and is wreaking havoc on our fair city,” Ermine said with vigor.
Theo heard Petrov grinding his teeth. He didn’t blame the poor guy. These were some serious allegations—accusing him of being a bad American, flouting New York’s own import and export laws, and opening its shores to the Russian mob.
“Stop growling,” Theo warned Petrov, giving him a sharp look and reveling in the Weasel’s wide-eyed look of fear. Ermine gulped audibly and stretched his collar with his index finger.
Petrov’s mate was in attendance, sitting behind him, giving him support. Good. As he had the good fortune to discover this week, one’s mate had a calming influence. Petrov complied and cut off the sound.
“I have evidence Konstantin Petrov and his associates,” Ermine spat, “have been seen together on more than one occasion when they discussed his plans to launder the crime organization’s dirty money, among other misdeeds, Your Honor.”
Theo had reached his limit. “Your Honor, before this goes any further, I believe I have a witness who can clear this up.”
“Approach.” Judge Harris beckoned him and Ermine.
“Your Honor, this is highly irregular—”
“Your Honor,” Theo interrupted, “I have documented proof that Mr. Petrov met with members of the Ivanovich family regarding a matter of life and death. My client is a victim of this family’s nefarious plots and is innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“Your Honor—”
“Mr. Ermine, be silent. Is this something your witness can prove, Mr. Jensen?”
