Page 12 of Code Violation

“Were you expecting him?” I ask her, interpreting her shocked reaction that she wasn’t.

Vesper slowly shakes her head, fear creeping into her expression.

“He’s either sitting in his car, waiting for me to arrive home, or …” She shakes her head again. “No. There’s no way he accessed my apartment floor. Drew recently changed the code to keep him out.”

I gaze out of the driver’s window, the parking lot gates only just starting to close. It’s clear how he drove in here—probably tailed another car and took advantage of how fucking slow the gates were.

“You need to go,” Vesper whispers quietly. “If Kane sees you here, then he’ll lose his shit.”

“How many times has this happened, Ves?” I probe, ignoring her request for me to leave. Like hell am I going anywhere now.

Besides, if Kane is sitting in his car and we can’t see him, he sure as shit will recognize my private plate, so me leaving now would be pointless.

Her reluctance to answer my question is evident from the way she twists her lips. Stressed.

“I don’t know. Too many times to count.”

The only reason why I’m still sitting in my truck and not tearing across the asphalt toward Kane’s car is sitting next to me. I reach across the center section and take Vesper’s hand in mine. She doesn’t flinch at the contact, soft fingers wrapping around mine.

She stares down at our connection. “Can you walk me to my apartment?”

I don’t question why she’s suddenly less concerned about Kane seeing me. Instead, I throw my driver’s door open, releasing her hand and rounding the hood.

When I pull her car door open, Vesper slides down from the truck, her small frame more obvious when she’s standing in front of me.

I reach in and grab her bag from the floorboard. She takes it from me, looping it over her shoulder.

It feels like the longest time as we approach Kane’s car. Any second, I expect his door to fly open and for him to be in my face, going off the deep end for driving Vesper home.

In the end, nothing happens because he’s sleeping in the driver’s seat, a bottle of bourbon resting between his thighs.

Vesper flattens her left palm on the hood as she observes him through the windshield.

What the hell did this guy do to her that she’s not telling me about?

“He likely tried the elevator, and when the code didn’t work, he figured he’d just sit and wait for me to arrive home,” she whispers, although I’m not sure if she’s speaking to herself or to me.

Stepping toward Vesper, I interlace our fingers and lead her toward the elevator, having already made the decision that tonight, I’m not leaving her alone at all.

Two minutes later, we’re walking into her apartment, and she’s closing the door behind her, sliding the dead bolt across the doorjamb.

More silence descends between us as she drops her bag onto the white console table in the entryway and heads straight into the open-plan living space.

I follow her and stand in the center of the room, watching Vesper rummage through the refrigerator.

“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head even though she can’t see me with hers buried in the refrigerator.

“Can we talk?” I say, moving toward her and closing the refrigerator door once she’s pulled a jar of black olives out and set them on the white kitchen island.

It’s not lost on me that she hasn’t asked me to leave again, and I sense it’s because she doesn’t want to be alone. Not with Kane drunk and only a few floors below.

She slides onto a kitchen stool on one side of the island, and I take the other.

“Is the only reason why you’re offering me food because you don’t want to be alone?” I ask, opting to get straight to the point.

Vesper doesn’t talk in riddles, and neither do I.