Chapter 5
NIA
“We’ve been here for hours. We have the right to make phone calls. My mother doesn’t know where I am,” a young man said.
The commotion pulled me from my thoughts. The same young man who’d asked for water now questioned one of the aggressive guards.
“You have the right to sit down and shut your mouth,” the guard responded, taking a step forward.
“I thought it was the law to—”
The guard moved suddenly, cutting off the young man’s words. “I am the law in here.”
Ronan was on his feet, instantly crossing the floor in long strides. He inserted himself in front of the boy. “That’s enough,” he said, dropping his voice an octave.
Irritation flashed in the guard’s face. “This isn’t your precinct, Chief,” the guard stated.
“No, but this is my jurisdiction, Officer Smith,” Ronan replied.
The guard straightened slightly, clearly uncomfortable being called out by a superior officer.
“He’s asking about a phone call. How about you check on the status of processing? I imagine everyone in here would appreciate an update,” Ronan ordered.
The guard stared at him for a moment and nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out,” he replied, then turned and left the holding area.
“Thanks.” The young man let out a shaky breath.
“No thanks needed. We’re going to sort this out,” Ronan said.
Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any worse, the officer returned with a cleaning caddy. “Holding area needs a good scrub. Might as well make yourselves useful while processing begins.”
I snatched the bucket handle and threw a look at Chief Pretty Boy that clearly said this situation wasn’t doing his reputation any favors, either.
Ronan took the broom, his face neutral except for a tightening of his jaw.
This man was a Zen master, or he’d had years of practicing swallowing bullshit with a smile.
“We’ll get it done,” he said, staring the officer down.
The officer scoffed. “Sure thing. Don’t miss any spots.” He laughed as he walked away, his keys jingling on his belt.
I waited until the door shut before turning to Ronan. “Ain’t this some shit? Birmingham’s most eligible bachelor doing manual labor. I wish I had my camera. I bet they would go more viral than those billboards.”
Ronan’s eyebrows raised in amusement, but he didn’t take the bait. He swept the floor, and I pretended not to notice the muscles flexing in his forearm.
“Are you always this talkative when you clean?” Ronan asked while he swept.
“Only when I’m paired with hashtag BadgeAndFine for janitorial duty. And I must say, seeing you with that broom is ruining your whole superhero aesthetic.”
Ronan actually laughed at that, so much so I noticed a dimple in his left cheek.
“I never claimed to be a superhero,” he replied, moving the broom.
“Mm-hmm. So, what’s the deal with processing? People have families wondering where they are and jobs they need to report to.”
Frustration flashed in his eyes. “Federal operations mean multiple jurisdictions, which means duplicate paperwork. BPD systems don’t talk to the National Guard systems, and vice versa. It’s a mess.”
“Wait, so we’re stuck in bureaucratic purgatory?”
Ronan ran a hand down his close-cropped beard. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. They’re probably doing paper forms instead of digital, among other issues.”
“We’re screwed,” I summarized.
“My guess is profiling dressed up as procedure, and it’s bullshit.”
“Damn, you actually give a fuck,” I noted before I could stop myself.
His eyes shot up. “You thought I didn’t?”
We both knew we weren’t really cleaning, but it gave us a chance to move around and talk.
“Honestly? I didn’t know if you were pretending. A pretty face saying all the right things, but ultimately still part of the problem.”
He held my gaze for a long time, his expression complicated. “And now?”
I blew out air. “They say you’re pushing reform. Is that true or more PR? I’m just wondering if there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Ronan paused in the middle of sweeping and looked straight at me. I wondered if he would let me see who he was beyond the badge.
“You want the truth? I went to war with my own department for two years to get body cameras that can’t be turned off. I fought for training that teaches something other than fear.”
He went back to sweeping, but it wasn’t busywork anymore. His hands moved with a patience that only came from having nothing left to prove.
I admit he busted my little narrative about the camera-ready chief; he undid all of that in a single breath.
“Sounds ambitious.”
“Yeah, but change is slow. We have officers who’ve been on the force for twenty and thirty years who resist every step of the way. The newer recruits are more receptive, though.”
Somehow, we’d moved closer, drawn together by something heavier than sweeping. His scent lingered in the air, despite the long day we’d had. The steady heat rolling off his body made my skin prickle.
I tossed out a question about the youth center, and his whole face lit up.
“We’re reopening it. The kids need a place where they’re seen. I want to give them that.”
I allowed myself to really admire him—the fatigue etched into his brow, the broad strength of his shoulders, the restraint in his stance, authority, not from barking orders, but from everything he held back.
I realized, all at once, I’d been wrong about him. I’d made him small to fit the story I wanted to tell. And right now, I found his truth irresistible.
He caught me staring, tongue-tied. “You good?” he asked.
I nodded, trying to hide how fast my heart was beating. “Yeah. I just . . . You surprised me.”
A smile curved his lips. “Is that right?”
Ronan leaned his broom against the wall. Suddenly, it felt like the whole room was holding its breath.
For the first time since meeting him, I didn’t care about hashtags or headlines. I just wanted the man in front of me, flawed but protective by nature.
His admission surprised a laugh out of me. “Now that I’d pay to see. Chief Banks with a bullhorn outside city hall, protesting his own department.”
Ronan smiled. “It’s kind of what I’m doing now, right?”
I nodded, reluctantly. “Good point.”
Ronan eyed my water bottle. “You want some? I can give you a waterfall if you’re not worried about my radical germs contaminating you.”
His laugh was deep. “It’s been a minute since someone offered me a waterfall.”
“Come on, hold your head back.” I opened the bottle, a smile tugging at my lips.
To my surprise, he tilted his head back. I raised the bottle above him and poured a stream of water into his mouth. A few drops escaped and trickled down his chin. The absurdity of the situation struck us, and we fell into laughter.
I put the cap back on the bottle after we stopped laughing. When our eyes met, I saw the man behind the uniform. He seemed more open than I expected, making me rethink my earlier assumptions. It was easier when he was just a face on a billboard. This Ronan had a surprising sense of humor.
Then, without warning, the lights went out, plunging the holding area into complete darkness. For a second, there was stunned silence, as if we all needed a moment to process the darkness. Then, commotion as voices came from all directions.
A guard shouted. “Remain calm. It’s a power outage, and an emergency generator should kick on shortly.”
“Shit.” The word slipped out as I tried to steady myself, reaching around in the dark.
Strong hands caught me, one gripping my upper arm and the other finding my waist. The sudden contact startled a gasp from me.
“I got you.” Ronan’s voice was low and close to my ear.
I should’ve straightened up and pulled away once I got my footing. Instead, I froze, aware of Ronan’s hands on me, the solid wall of his chest inches away from my face.
“You good?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I answered but made no move to step back. Something about the darkness made it easier to stay in his bubble of proximity.
Ronan’s hand remained at my waist. The warmth of his palm through the fabric of my shirt made my heart hammer in my chest.
“Never thought I’d be in a blackout in a holding cell,” I said quietly, not exactly sure why I kept my voice low.
He made a sound that might’ve been a soft laugh. “Yeah, it wasn’t on my bingo card either, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than having these honest conversations.” His thumb moved slightly against my waist, sending awareness up my spine.
“Honest because of the darkness, or despite it?” I reached up, resting my hand on his chest. I felt his intake of breath at the contact.
“Honest because it’s you,” he said simply.
My heart rate kicked up. “You don’t even know me.”
Ronan’s hand found mine resting on his chest. “I know enough. I know you fight for what you believe in. I know you care for people when they’re hurting. I know you see through bullshit faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve watched you all day, trying to make sense of how someone I should consider an adversary matches my energy. Ronan . . .” His name now felt different on my lips.
He moved closer. “Tell me to step back if that’s what you want.”
What I wanted had never been more clear or confusing. In the light, we were chief and activist, opposite sides of a divide, but in the dark, we were a man and woman attracted to each other.
My answer was to lean forward as his lips found mine. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, questioning, but then his hand tightened at my waist, pulling me against his as his mouth moved more insistently against mine. A slight sound escaped me as my fingers curled into his shirt.
The darkness created a world where only we existed, the sensation of his lips pressing against mine, and the slight scratch of his beard against my skin. My hands moved from his chest to the back of his neck, his close-cropped hair against my palm.
Our kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I opened for him. Ronan flooded my senses, leaving me unable to process how the man I planned to critique in my lecture was now kissing me like he’d waited his whole life to do this.
We were so lost in each other that the sudden flash of emergency lights startled us. We broke apart, blinking in the harsh red lights. Ronan’s hand was still at my waist, and for a moment, we stared at each other, processing what happened.
The people in the holding area were relieved at the partial lighting. The guard shouted to restore calm.
I stepped back, breaking our physical connection, though my body protested the distance.
“I—” Whatever Ronan planned to say was cut off by the guards and their flashlight sweeping the holding area.
“Power company’s working on it. The main lights will be back shortly. You two, back to your assigned area.”
Ronan and I moved to return the brooms and cleaning supplies to the caddy. The electricity between us had nothing to do with the building’s failed power, but everything to do with wondering what would happen when we walked out of this holding cell.