Page 1 of Code Violation

prologue

. . .

Silas

Mid-December

“Should I take a seat or remain standing?”

Rocking back on my heels, I hold my breath and wait for Vesper to kick me out of her bedroom.

I shouldn’t be here, but that’s nothing I haven’t told myself repeatedly from the moment I climbed into my truck and drove the ten-minute journey from my place to her apartment.

The only reason why I’m standing in her bedroom and not still at the front door comes down to her fear of us being seen together and not just my inability to stay away.

She’s my half-brother, Kane’s, ex-girl, and I’m fucking obsessed with her.

Sitting on the bed, Vesper pulls her knees toward her chest and rests her head against the plush green headboard. She releases a long-drawn-out breath, and I brace for rejection. Or maybe ejection would be more apt.

“If any of the next few words to leave your mouth involve Kane, then you know where the door is.”

And there it is.

The invite I should definitely take to stop talking and leave.

Taking a seat on a chair in the corner of her room, I lean forward with my elbows braced on my knees as I study the frowning woman before me and then her surroundings.

The apartment she shares with my rookie forward’s girlfriend, Drew, is really nice and a far cry from the hole Vesper was living in when she was dating the brother I hate being associated with.

At least she’s safe here with security downstairs and a code required to ride the elevator to her floor.

Which begs the question, why did she let me up here in the first place? I’d like to think it’s because she likes me as a person and wants my help to make a clean break from Kane, although I’m ninety percent sure that I’m incorrect on both counts.

“When was the last time Kane called you?”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head as another sigh passes through her full, red-stained lips.

With Vesper, it would be easy to interpret her stoic demeanor and put-together appearance as signs that she’s happy and loved.

But after years of knowing her, no amount of makeup can fool me.

Lifting a red manicured finger, Vesper points at her closed bedroom door. “Go. You knew the rules when I opened the front door.”

I hang my head, index fingers massaging my temples in rhythmic circles.

“Ves …” My voice is soft and coaxing as I speak toward the cream carpet beneath my feet.

“Leave, Silas.”

I lift my head up, hating the way she bites out my name. Only when Vesper’s stressed does she call me Silas. Whenever we’re messing around or texting back and forth, I’m always Si.

“I’ll leave when you tell me the last time he called you.”

An ambulance tearing through the Seattle streets below the apartment sounds like it’s passing through Vesper’s bedroom, the atmosphere between us so eerily quiet.

“This morning.”

My head snaps up, and my molars crunch together.