“Kyrie, my man, how are you holding up?” the agent said, stepping further into the room.
“I’m good, man,” Kyrie snapped, his face scrunching in irritation. “What you doin’ up here?”
“Checking on my star player, making sure you’re solid.” The agent adjusted his cuffs, his eyes darting toward me before landing back on Kyrie. “And we need to talk about a few things.”
“Can’t it wait?” I stepped forward, closing the gap between the bed and the door. I knew Kyrie was hurting, even if he acted like he wasn’t. He needed to heal, not talk business.
The agent sighed, looking at me with forced grace. “I understand the concern, but this is urgent.”
“How urgent?” I pressed.
“Urgent enough that I need to know if he knows who did this. We need to get the cops involved immediately.”
“Nawl.” Kyrie’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He sat up straighter, ignoring the wince that flashed across his face. “We ain’t getting the law involved in this. Leave their ass out of it.”
“Kyrie, be reasonable. We need to get this guy off the streets.”
“Nawl, let me handle it.” Kyrie leaned forward, the hospital gown slipping slightly, revealing the tension in his chest. His eyes were cold and void of the playfulness he’d just shown me. This wasn’t the man flirting with me a few minutes ago. This was the man who his agent felt like needed to be under control. “This nigga got a problem with me? He shot me? Fine. But I’m taking care of this my way.”
“But Kyrie, you’re better than this,” the agent pleaded, his hands held out as a peace offering. “You have too much on the line. You can’t bring street shit into the league. Think smart.”
“I am thinking smart.” Kyrie’s jaw set, a hard line of muscle jumping in his cheek. He pointed toward the door with his good hand. “Now, if you ain’t got nothing else, get out. I’m tired.”
The agent opened his mouth to argue but saw the ironclad resolve in Kyrie’s stare and gave in to it. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and walked out without another word.
The silence that followed was heavy. Kyrie didn’t relax; he just stared at the closed door, his mind clearly miles away, plotting justice that didn’t involve a courtroom.
I let out a long, heavy breath, my shoulders dropping as I searched his face. “Kyrie, I think you should go and talk to someone about what happened.”
His hand dragged over his mouth like the whole idea irritated him.
“I ain’t talking to no law.” A quiet breath pushed through his nose, and his gaze dropped for a second before lifting back to me. “They ain’t gon’ do shit.”
The words sat heavy between us. Then, he leaned back, his eyes settling on me, different this time.
“Besides.” His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, making his jaw flex. “I got people, and they’ll handle that shit.”
“I guess, but the police came up here while you were in surgery,” I muttered, the weight of the secret pressing down on my chest.
Kyrie’s head snapped toward me, his brow arching so high it disappeared into his hairline. “And what did they say?”
“I told them I didn’t know nothing,” I said, looking down at my lap before glancing back up. “But they started asking me about Jamal.”
A slow, chilling smile spread across his face—the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “Good. Keep it that way.”
“But Kyrie, ain’t this type of shit going to come back and bite you in the ass?” I bit my inner lip, the anxiety bubbling over. I couldn’t have us both caught up on a withholding charge, and the thought of him catching another case for whatever he had planned for Jamal had my stomach in knots.
Kyrie let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated through the bed frame. He reached out, his tongue tracing his bottom lip.
“Don’t worry about me, ma. My people know how to take care of this shit.” He patted the small space on the mattress next to him, his smirk growing wider, more wicked. “Now, come over here and lie with big daddy.”
I should’ve told him no. I should’ve stayed right where I was, but instead, I moved.
I shook my head and laughed. This man was a mess. Climbing into bed next to him, I cuddled up beside him and finally drifted back off to sleep.
I looked down at Sianni,watching the way her lashes brushed against her cheeks while she lay in my arms. Seeing her like this, all soft and vulnerable, had me feeling some type of way. I couldn't help but admire her. She had a point about me needing to talk, but my mind was already somewhere else. I wasn't saying a word to the folks. I already had a mental list of the hitters I met when I first touched down here; I knew for a fact they’d handle that nigga for me without a second thought.
A light knock at the door broke my focus. I didn't even have to look up to feel my blood start to simmer. My cousin walked in, but it was the goofy-ass girl trailing behind him that really set me off.
