Page 93 of Code Violation

“Let’s make a deal.”

Kane stands around ten feet away from me, eyes burning into the back of my phone.

Closing out the message thread, I set my cell down on the coffee table next to me.

“I’m not making any deals with you, Kane. The only arrangement I’ll engage in is the one where I instruct a legal team to serve you with a restraining order if you don’t heed my warning and stay away from Vesper.”

“Oh, no.” He approaches me confidently. “I think you’ll definitely want to consider this proposal.”

His attention lands on my phone, and, fuck, what’s going to leave his mouth next? My brother is the dumbest yet the most dangerous kind of cunning. He used to wrap Mom around his little finger when he wanted something, and he did the same with Vesper.

“That teammate of yours …” He scratches the back of his head, pretending like he’s trying to recall his name. “Mason James, isn’t it? The one who got involved that night when he had no business threatening me.” His lips curl into an evil grin. “Well, I’ve got a little threat of my own: Either I log in to my checking account tomorrow morning and find ten thousand dollars sitting there, looking pretty, and then the same amount each week after that, or I’ll sing like a fucking canary to the press. Apparently, he was supposed to be with you in Vegas, but pulled out at the final second due to sickness.”

He pulls a deep breath into his nostrils. “That guy is stupider than the woman having my baby if he thought I would let him off with a free pass.” He tsks. “Imagine what the Rogues would have to say about his behavior. I heard that this Theo Cavendish guy is really fucking unforgiving when it comes to dead weight on the team.”

He clicks his fingers, mocking my teammate. “Say, didn’t his marriage recently blow up? Maybe he was after a piece of Vesper.”

I’m in his face in seconds, spitting out my next words. “Get out of my apartment. Now.”

He glances toward the front door and then back at me. “I’ll leave when I have an agreement on our deal.”

“I don’t want him to know about the baby being yours. I can’t handle any more stress right now. I need peace while we get through the next few weeks.”

Vesper’s plea repeats back at me as I fight the desperate urge to pummel Kane into the ground.

Peace. She needs peace.

Turning around, I march toward my front door and almost rip it from its hinges when I open it.

Kane doesn’t move, waiting to hear what he wants from me.

I swallow my pride for the woman I love and for my teammate who can’t seem to catch a fucking break these days. He needs his captain more than ever, and like hell am I telling Coach or Cavendish about Vegas.

“I’ll call my bank this afternoon and arrange for the money to be wired to you overnight.”

He doesn’t even react.

“And what about thereafter?”

I just smile because I’ll murder him if I don’t.

“Every week. Ten thousand dollars.”

Satisfied, he starts walking toward the door, but before he can leave, I catch his upper arm, and he side-eyes me.

“I’ll pay you the money,” I growl. “You leave Vesper and my teammate the fuck alone. Remember the old phrase, You can’t take it with you when you die? Well, you and I both know I’ll make sure to prove it right.”

30

. . .

Vesper

Sitting next to June in ice-level seats is likely to put me into early labor, and it’s only the first period in the game.

Although I truly hope not, given that I’m only in my first trimester.

“Did you see that, Ves?!” June leaps from her seat and points at the ref, her face contorted with rage. “Rule number one in hockey: Never touch the goalie!”