Chapter 10
RONAN
“You sure you’re good to drive? Been a long day,” I asked, one hand resting on her open door.
“Trying to find excuses to keep me around, Chief?”
My lips curved, despite everything. “Maybe. Is it working?”
“It is.” Nia smiled.
I glanced around the empty lot. “Not much I can offer here, but I keep thinking about our time at the cabin.”
Her eyes darkened, memories passing behind them like shadows. “Me too.”
“Remember what I said.”
“I remember.”
I stepped back, finally giving her space to close her door. “Good. Because that’s what matters.”
A soft smile touched her lips. “I’ll see you soon?”
It wasn’t really a question, but I nodded anyway. “Count on it.”
I closed her door gently. Nia started the engine, and I stepped back, watching as she backed out of the space and pulled toward the exit. Only when her taillights disappeared around the corner did I exhale long and hard, like I’d been holding my breath since she first walked into my life.
I noticed a black SUV idling at the far edge of the parking lot, headlights dark despite the deepening twilight.
I didn’t react, didn’t turn my head for a second look, just reached for my key fob with the same casual movement as normal.
Every instinct honed through me went on high alert, the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up.
As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out; the screen showed missed calls from Todd. I pocketed the phone without returning the call. I was headed to the station and would see him there.
I got into the car and started the engine, adjusting my rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of the SUV without being obvious. Still there. Still waiting.
I swung by the precinct. The station was quiet when I walked in. The desk sergeant glanced up, surprise flickering across his face, before he nodded respectfully.
“Chief. Wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Just returning something to Captain Jordan. He still here?” I replied, keeping my tone casual.
“Yes, sir. In his office.”
I nodded my thanks and felt his eyes on me as I walked down the hall. The night shift felt different, with fewer supervisors and more real police work. It also meant I stood out, especially in plain clothes.
Todd’s door was open. He looked up as I entered. “There he is. I was thinking you’d driven off into the sunset with my Impala.”
I chuckled. “Tempting, but she guzzles too much gas. Thanks for the loan.” I tossed his key fob. He caught it with one hand before returning my keys.
“How was your day off?”
I settled into the chair across from him. “Restorative. I think I should take your advice and spend more time up there. Clear my mind.”
Todd nodded. “And? Things clearer now?”
The real question was clear: Was I back in the game?
Because whatever storm was brewing, he needed to know if I was solid or compromised; years of partnership had given us the ability to read each other without words.
Right now, his eyes asked questions his mouth wouldn’t form with the door open and ears potentially listening.
“Crystal.”
Todd nodded at the door, then I reached to push it shut.
“Internal Affairs has been all over the place asking questions about the protest, about your ‘intervention,’ about protocol, and chain of command.”
“Expected. I broke ranks when I stepped between the Guard and civilians,” I said, though the confirmation still landed like a punch.
Todd’s eyes narrowed slightly. “They’re not just asking about that, Ro.
They’re asking about who you were with in holding.
Who you talked to. Where you went after release.
And they’re very interested in Dr. Price specifically.
” His voice remained professional, but I knew Todd well enough to hear the concern underneath.
I kept my face impassive through years of practice. “I see.”
“Do you? Because whatever happened in that holding cell, and I don’t need details, has people’s attention. People who could make both our lives very difficult.”
He wasn’t asking as my subordinate now, but as my friend. As the man who’d stood with me at my parents’ funerals, who’d backed my promotion to chief when half the force thought I was too young, too progressive, too Black for the job.
“I appreciate the heads up. You’ll fill me in tomorrow on the specifics?”
“First thing. Tread carefully. This feels different from the typical bureaucratic bullshit.”
I nodded and stood up. “Always do.” We both knew it for the lie it was. If I’d been treading carefully, I wouldn’t have stepped between protesters and the National Guard. Wouldn’t have gotten myself arrested. Wouldn’t have taken Nia to my cabin.
Todd didn’t call me on it, just watched me as I turned to go. “See you in the morning, Chief.”
My title felt like a reminder of what was at stake. Not just a job, not just a career, but everything I’d worked for—the reforms, the community trust I’d painstakingly built, the chance to change a system from the inside that was so resistant to change.
The drive home went by quickly, with me on autopilot while my mind worked through implications. That unmarked SUV hadn’t been a coincidence; it might’ve been surveillance.
At home, I stripped, tossing clothes toward the hamper as I headed for the shower.
Hot water eased my shoulders and loosened tight muscles.
In bed, I stared at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at my limbs while my mind refused to quiet.
What started in that holding cell grew at the cabin and was like finding a piece of myself.
Tomorrow would bring questions, scrutiny, and choices. What would it cost to want her? Everything, possibly. What would it cost her to love me?
I picked up my phone and dialed Nia’s number.
“Hey. I know it’s late, I just . . . wanted to hear your voice before I turn in.”
“You’re up past your bedtime, Chief.”
I let out a low chuckle. “I was thinking about you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Not worry. I just . . . miss you, I guess. That’s all. Good night, sweet lady.”
“Good night, Ronan. Get some rest.”
“You too. Sweet dreams.”
Sleep finally came, but it wasn’t restful.
The next morning, I arrived early, hoping to get ahead of whatever was unfolding. I nodded to the desk sergeant and greeted officers in the hall. It all felt routine, but my gut told me today was anything but normal.
Todd intercepted me halfway to my office. “Conference room. They’ve been waiting twenty minutes.”
“Who’s they?”
Todd eyed the hallway for listeners. “Peterson and Grant from Internal Affairs and some suit from the Feds. I didn’t catch a name, just that he had the desk sergeant tripping over himself.”
I nodded. Peterson and Grant were bureaucrats with badges, more focused on rules than justice. Though with the Feds involved, this was more than a simple breach; it was an embarrassment for the department.
“Anything else I should know?”
Todd’s face gave nothing away, but his tone lowered. “They’ve pulled incident reports from the protest. And . . . Dr. Price’s public records, academic publications, social media, and the works.”
I kept my face neutral, though something cold knotted in my stomach. “Appreciate the heads up.”
The conference room door might as well have been the entrance to a boxing ring. I squared my shoulders, straightened my backbone, and walked in with the measured confidence of a man with nothing to hide. The men looked up from the table as I entered.
“Gentlemen. Sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?” I said, closing the door behind me.
Peterson, a balding and perpetually flushed man, motioned toward a chair across from them. “Chief Banks. Thanks for joining us. This is Special Agent Richards from the Department of Homeland Security.”
I nodded to Richards, who assessed me with a cold calculation of a man used to reading people for weaknesses. “Agent Richards. What brings Homeland Security to Birmingham PD?”
“We’re reviewing the Harris Memorial incident. Your department’s handling of it has raised some . . . concerns,” Richards confirmed.
I recognized it for what it was, a fishing expedition masquerading as an official review. “I see. I’d be happy to walk you through our operational decisions.”
Grant, who was younger than Peterson, opened a folder. “Let’s start with your decision to intervene between National Guard troops and protesters physically. That directly violated protocol, didn’t it?”
That started the round of questions meant to trap me or find mistakes. I answered each one calmly and clearly, relying on my years of experience. Yes, I intervened. No, I didn’t check with a higher command first. Yes, I knew I broke protocol. No, I wouldn’t have done anything differently.
“I train my officers to de-escalate. The Guard escalated a situation that could’ve been contained without tear gas or arrests. I made a judgment call based on my assessment of civilian safety.”
Peterson’s mouth thinned. “A judgment call that got Birmingham’s chief of police arrested on national television.”
“Better me than civilians in body bags,” I replied.
Richards, who’d been mostly silent, spoke again. “What can you tell us about the protest organizers, Chief Banks?”
The question was designed to catch me off guard; the topic shift was deliberate, but I didn’t flinch. “Mostly local community groups. First Church congregation and some student activists from the university.”
“Any particular individuals stand out? Particularly Dr. Nia Price?” Richards asked.
“Several community leaders were present. The usual voices in Birmingham’s civil rights community.”
Richards nodded, then reached for a folder that had been sitting closed before him. He flipped it open and slid it across the table toward me. “And what about this woman? Dr. Nia Price. I understand she was in the same holding cell as you after the arrests.”
The photos inside the folder hit me like a punch to the gut.
Surveillance shots of Nia at the protest, talking to students.
Nia being handcuffed. I kept my expression professionally curious as I studied the photos.
“Dr. Price is a lecturer at Birmingham State. Specializes in civil rights history, if I recall correctly.”
“She’s also on a federal watchlist as a potential domestic disruptor. With connections to known radical elements across three states.”
I tapped my finger against my thigh under the table, the only sign of my anger. ‘Radical elements.’ The words were deliberately vague, meant to make Nia look dangerous rather than principled.
“Is that so? Her collegiate work seemed well-respected when I looked into it.” I kept my voice neutral, meeting Richards’ glare.
“You’ve researched her?” Richards asked, pouncing on the admission.
“I make it a point to be familiar with influential voices in my community,” I replied smoothly.
“Are you still in touch with any of the organizers since the protest?” Grant questioned.
The question hung in the air, loaded with traps. A yes would lead to demands for details, for records of communication. A direct no would be a lie. They might already have evidence to disprove.
“I’ve had no professional contact with protest organizers regarding the events since my release from custody,” I said carefully, the words technically true. My contact with Nia had been entirely personal, not professional, not about the protest at all.
Richards studied my face for several long seconds, looking for cracks in the facade. I gave him nothing but professional composure. The face of a chief discussing operational matters rather than a man protecting a woman he’d held in his arms two nights ago.
When it finally ended, Richards shook my hand with a grip that was more of a challenge than courtesy. “We’ll be in touch, Chief Banks. The Bureau takes domestic disruption seriously these days.”
“As does my department. My door is always open,” I replied.
Finally alone in my office, I closed the blinds and sat down hard. They weren’t just building a case against me for breaking rules; they were going after Nia for being herself, for speaking out and refusing to accept things as they were.
I reached for my phone, then stopped. I wanted to call Nia to warn her.
Tell her everything we’d shared at the cabin was real, but so was the danger now gathering around us.
If they were watching me, they were already watching her, and I’d only confirm what they suspected.
I’d make her more of a target, not less.
I’d drag her deeper into an investigation that could destroy her career, her reputation, her freedom.
Though my silence would look like a betrayal to her. Like I’d gotten what I wanted at the cabin and now was distancing myself from the “radical” Black woman under federal investigation. She’d think I’d chosen the badge over her, the system over justice.
And maybe she’d be right, yet the other option was worse, placing her directly in the crosshairs of federal agents who’d already decided she was dangerous. My protection might feel like abandonment to her, but at least she’d be alive and free to hate me for it.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, the burden of impossible choices weighing heavily on me. What did it cost me to want her? Everything about my career, my reputation, possibly my freedom if they decided I’d compromised my position.
The call remained unmade, while somewhere, Nia was unaware that the ground beneath us shifted dangerously. And for the first time, I wondered if there was any path I could take to keep both my oath and my heart intact.