Page 33

The tension from earlier had faded into the background, lost in the thick summer air and drowned out by the easy laughter of people just enjoying the last stretch of the day.

The sun dipped lower, casting the lake in gold, making the ripples dance like melted amber. The scent of charred meat, spilled liquor, and fresh-cut grass lingered, mixing with the faintest trace of cigars and sweet perfume.

Folding chairs collapsed one by one, aluminum trays sealed up and tucked away, kids running their last wild laps before tired parents started packing up.

The men of War Lords and a few other friends and family weren’t moving just yet.

They were still posted up near the tents, holding onto their cups like trophies, conversation easy now, energy lighter than it had been all day.

Banter flew back and forth, the kind that came with a mix of liquor and nostalgia with old stories resurfacing, wild claims getting exaggerated, jokes hitting harder as the sun disappeared inch by inch.

Duke was midway through a ridiculous-ass story about some fight back in the day that Nub immediately called bullshit on.

“Man, if you knocked out three niggas by yourself, then I’m the damn Mayor of Trinity Bay. You might as well start calling me Mayor Charles—Chuck, Chucky—Whitmore, my nigga,” Nub scoffed, shaking his head.

Duke half smiled, unfazed. “Aye, I got receipts, nigga. Go ask C-Lo. He was there.”

Tez sucked his teeth. “Nigga, C-Lo ain’t got no damn teeth left, he don’t remember shit.”

Laughter erupted, shoulders shaking, heads nodding.

Kenyatta smirked, shaking his head as he took a sip from his drink. Though he tried to enjoy the rest of the evening, his mind still ambled back to earlier.

Felt the weight of Rico’s words sitting in his chest.

Krys used to fuck with K9, huh? The thought tightened something in his gut. It didn’t make sense. She just didn’t seem like the type to be tied in with a force like K9; but on the other hand, the way she was able to move the way she did…

Maybe it was worth looking into and asking the right questions to get the right answers.

Before he could continue to muse over the thought, he felt a presence; soft, but certain.

Krys.

She was just close enough that her perfume slipped past the scent of smoke and whiskey, soft but intoxicating.

She leaned in, her voice just low enough for him to hear, her lips near his ear.

“Come take a walk with me.”

It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

Kenyatta handed off his cup to Tez, ignoring the smirk that immediately spread across his boy’s face.

“Aye, that’s how it is?” Tez teased. “Nigga, you just gon’ leave us like that?”

Kenyatta shot him a look. “Hold the damn cup.”

Tez cackled, waving him off. “A’ight, a’ight. Go be in love, nigga.”

Krys rolled her eyes but smirked as Kenyatta fell into step beside her.

They walked in silence at first, the celebration fading behind them as they strolled toward the quieter part of the marina. The city lights reflected off the water, flickering like fireflies, while the hum of boat engines mixed with distant music, creating a slow, intimate rhythm.

The dock creaked gently beneath their steps, the scent of salt and charcoal still lingering in the air from the barbecue pits.

Krys trailed her fingers along the wooden railing, her eyes thoughtful, her energy unreadable. Musa wasn’t unreadable though. The big dog had followed at first, pacing behind them like a shadow, his posture rigid, protective. Only when Krys gave a subtle flick of her wrist, a silent command, did Musa slow his steps, stopping just a few feet away.

But he didn’t leave. He never left; always on duty. His heavy paws rested firmly against the dock, his golden eyes locked onto Kenyatta’s back. Waiting. Watching. No man had the opportunity to think he was about to be alone with Krys and get out of line. Musa was ready to remind him who he was dealing with.

Kenyatta didn’t fold under pressure. Never had. Right now, his focus wasn’t on Musa; it was on her.

“You good?”

The words came smooth; not forced or rushed, just a casual check-in.

Krys turned her head slightly, lifting a brow. “I should be asking you that.”

Kenyatta just nodded. He wasn’t going to show his hand just yet.

“You get enough to eat?” he asked instead.

She grinned knowingly. “You deflecting?”

“Nah,” he muttered. “I’m just sayin’…you came out here bringing liquor and vibes, but I ain’t seen you touch most of the food.”

Krys tilted her head slightly, eyeing him. “You tryna take care of me or something?”

“Somebody gotta make sure you ain’t out here passing out in the sun,” he threw back, using her own words from earlier.

That made her laugh softly, shaking her head.

But Kenyatta wasn’t really laughing. His mind was still spinning. Still going back to what Rico said. Still wondering how much truth was in it.

His jaw ticked slightly, but he kept his voice smooth. “So…” he started, watching her carefully. “How you know K9?”

Krys didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. She shifted her weight slightly.

“Everybody in Trinity Bay knows K9,” she answered simply.

Kenyatta nodded slowly. “So y’all cool?”

Krys’ lips curled slightly, not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. “He respects what I do,” she said after a second. “And he doesn’t get in my way.”

It was the way she said it; calm, controlled, uninterested.

Kenyatta studied her. “You ever work with him?”

Krys finally let her eyes meet his fully. “What’s with all the questions, Yatta?”

He shrugged, playing it off. “Just tryna see where you stand in The Water, in the Bay.”

Krys exhaled softly, setting her drink down.

“I stand on my own,” she said smoothly. “And K9? He don’t move me. If that’s what you’re tryna figure out.”

In true Krysta Davis fashion, she didn’t hesitate with her answers. He didn’t know why he expected any different. But just because her answers were punctual, were they the whole truth?

Kenyatta tilted his head slightly. “You got a past, Krysta Davis?”

Krys lifted her chin slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Who doesn’t?”

His gaze darkened just a little. “So that’s a yes?”

Krys smirked. “That’s a ‘mind ya business.’”

Kenyatta exhaled slowly, studying her. She was good.

Too good.

He hated that he liked it. Hated that he wanted to press further. Hated that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if he had the upper hand.

Krys saw the way he was looking at her, and it made her smirk again. “You don’t like not knowing everything, do you?”

Kenyatta’s jaw flexed. “You like keeping secrets?”

Krys lifted a shoulder. “Only the ones worth keeping.”

Just as the air got too thick, Musa let out a low exhale, stepping slightly between them like he was tired of the silent war they were waging.

Krys finally broke eye contact first, reaching down to scratch the massive dog behind his ear. “You tryna keep me in check too, huh?”

Musa huffed.

“Nigga probably need to shit again, and I ain’t fuckin’ with him like that,” Kenyatta said, trying to contain his laughter.

Krys smiled, continuing to rub Musa. “Naw, he’s good for now.” She let a few seconds go by before she looked up at Kenyatta. “It’s your turn. You gonna tell me what that was about earlier?”

Kenyatta exhaled, jaw flexing just slightly. “It ain’t nothing. Rico just…on some shit.”

Krys lifted a brow. “That ain’t what I asked.”

Kenyatta glanced at her, the glow from the lamps lining the greenway catching the sharp confidence in her gaze.

She wasn’t pressed, but she wasn’t about to let it go either.

For a moment, he thought about telling her everything; even about how the K9 comments were bothering him. Whether he knew it or not, Rico tried to plant in his head a little seed of doubt.

But something told him to hold up on divulging it all to her. Instead, he turned to face her fully, his voice even. “You ever lie to me?”

Krys blinked, caught off guard.

Her arms crossed, her chin lifted slightly. “That’s random.”

Kenyatta’s stare didn’t waver. “Nah. It ain’t.”

Silence stretched between them. Tense. Charged. Heavy.

“I don’t lie,” Krys said simply. “Not to the people that matter.”

Kenyatta studied her. He asked, “Do I matter?”

“I can say with all honesty, yes…You do matter.”

The way she said it; sharp, no hesitation, no fidgeting, and no uncertainty.

He believed her, or at least he wanted to. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was just how she looked at him when she said it.

Either way, it settled something in him.

He didn’t think, didn’t process, didn’t weigh the consequences; he just reached for her.

She let him tug her in. Her body eased into his letting the space between them dissolve until there was nothing left but heat and breath and something unspoken.

Her pulse began to thrum. His did too. And when his hands slid lower, one gripping her hip, the other ardently cupping her ass, her breath hitched just slightly.

“Kenyatta…”

Only his name managed to escape her lips. It wasn’t how she said it but what it did to him.

Kenyatta exhaled slowly, tilting his head. “You ain’t telling me to stop this time?”

Krys’ lips parted slightly, her chest rising with her breath.

She didn’t have any words. That was all he needed.

Their second kiss; slow at first, like testing the weight of something fragile. Trying to see if this was real or just another dangerous idea. But the second her fingers curled into the front of his shirt it changed.

The kiss deepened. Like it had always been waiting for this.

Krys tilted her chin, her lips parting beneath his, her body reacting before her mind could tell her not to.

Kenyatta’s grip tightened, one hand sliding up to the back of her neck, the other firm at her waist, anchoring her to him.

This was real now, and they both felt it.

Just a few feet away, Musa lifted his massive head, his ears twitched and his tail gave a slow, assessing flick. He sighed. Still watching but no longer on edge. If Krys was letting it happen then it was okay.

For now.

The moment lingered, stretched, thick with tension and temptation until finally Krys pulled back, breathing unsteady.

Her lips were kiss-bitten, glossy, her pupils dilated.

Kenyatta didn’t let her go. But she took a slow step back, putting space where there hadn’t been any.

A breath. A pause. A moment to figure out what the hell they just did.

Krys cleared her throat, running a hand over her hair. “Well...”

Kenyatta licked his lips, his thumb brushing absently along his jaw. “…Yeah.”

She gave him a crooked, flirty smile. “You tryna start something, Yatta?”

Kenyatta smirked right back.

“Nah,” he murmured, his voice low, dark. “I’m tryna finish something.”