Chapter 4: The Precinct
The fluorescent lights of the precinct buzzed like a persistent insect, casting everything in a sickly yellow pallor that made Jonah's skin prickle. He stood just inside the glass doors, clutching a paper coffee cup that had gone lukewarm in his grip, watching a sea of navy uniforms ebb and flow around him.
He'd never felt more out of place in his life.
A desk sergeant looked up from her monitor, her eyebrows knitting together. "You lost, honey? Juvenile intake's on the other side of the building."
"Actually," Kelly's voice cut through the noise, warm and commanding, "he's with me."
She emerged from a side corridor, and Jonah's breath caught in his throat. He'd seen his sister in all sorts of states—rumpled and sleepy, bare-skinned and satisfied, laughing with wine-stained lips. But he'd never seen her like this.
The navy uniform hugged her curves in a way that felt almost obscene, the starched cotton straining across her chest. Her duty belt sat low on her hips, laden with equipment that gleamed under the harsh lights. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, and her badge winked from its position above her left breast.
"Jonah," she said, her voice all professional calm. "Glad you could make it."
The desk sergeant's eyebrows climbed higher. "This is your little brother? Kelly, you never mentioned you had a baby brother."
"Eighteen," Kelly corrected, a hint of steel in her tone. "He's eighteen now."
"Eighteen looks good on him," another officer chimed in, a burly man with a thick mustache who'd been nursing a coffee at the water cooler. "You sure he's legal, Kel? He looks like he should be in high school."
Jonah felt his cheeks burn. He wanted to sink into the polished concrete floor.
But Kelly just laughed, a sharp, confident sound. "He gets that from Mom's side. Weren't you just complaining about needing new recruits? Here's one, fresh and eager." She clapped a hand on Jonah's shoulder, her fingers pressing just a little too firmly. "He's considering joining the force."
Jonah's head snapped toward her. They'd never discussed that. Not once.
"Really?" The mustached officer squinted at him. "You look like you'd blow over in a stiff wind. No offense."
"None taken," Jonah managed, his voice coming out squeakier than he'd intended.
Kelly's hand squeezed his shoulder, steadying him. "He's tougher than he looks. Trust me."
There was something in the way she said it—low and intimate beneath the professional veneer—that made his stomach flip.
"We've got paperwork to do," Kelly announced, steering him toward the corridor she'd emerged from. "Don't wait up, boys."
They walked down a long hallway lined with doors, each one marked with a plaque and a number. Jonah's footsteps echoed on the linoleum, sounding too loud in his own ears. Kelly's boots made a quieter, more measured sound, each step deliberate.
Halfway down the corridor, she stopped in front of a heavy steel door marked "Holding Bay 3."
"This is where I do interviews," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "Private. Quiet. No cameras."
Jonah swallowed hard. "Why are you showing me this?"
Kelly's hazel eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw something flicker in their depths—heat, hunger, something that made his knees weak.
"Because I've been thinking about this all week," she said, pulling a keycard from her belt. "Since you left my apartment, I haven't been able to think about anything else."
The door swung open, revealing a narrow room lit by a single bulb. A metal desk sat against one wall, scarred and dented from years of use. In the corner, a cot was bolted to the floor, its thin mattress covered in a scratchy-looking blanket.
Jonah stepped inside, his heart hammering. "Kelly, if someone sees—"
The door clicked shut behind them. The sound of the lock engaging was obscenely loud in the small space.
"No one's going to see," Kelly said, closing the distance between them. "No one's going to hear. We've got about forty minutes before anyone even thinks to check on me."
Her fingers found his chin, tilting his face up to meet hers. "I've been wanting to do this since the moment I put on this uniform this morning. The whole drive to work, all I could think about was getting you in here."
Her mouth found his, hungry and demanding. Jonah melted into her, his hands finding her hips, pulling her close. The fabric of her uniform was rough under his fingers, but beneath it, she was warm and soft and so achingly familiar.
"You look so damn good in this," he breathed against her lips.
Kelly's smile was sharp and knowing. "Wait until you see what's underneath."
She reached for the buttons of her shirt, but Jonah's hands covered hers. "No. Leave it on."
Her eyes widened, then darkened with interest. "Oh, little brother. You've been doing some thinking."
"I've been doing a lot of things," he admitted, his voice rough.
Kelly laughed, low and wicked. "Show me."
He pulled her to the cot, sitting down and drawing her between his legs. His hands found the hem of her shirt, slipping beneath to trace the smooth skin of her stomach. Upward, over her ribs, until his thumbs brushed the underwire of her bra.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You're so hot."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kelly murmured, reaching down to unbuckle her duty belt. It clattered to the floor, a heavy weight of metal and leather. She unzipped her pants, pushing them down just enough to expose the top of her underwear—plain black, utilitarian, clinging to her hips.
"Is that what you're wearing for me?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"This is what I wear for everyone," she corrected, stepping out of the pants and kicking them aside. "But this—" She took his hand and pressed it against the damp fabric between her thighs. "—this is just for you."
The heat of her soaked through the thin cotton, and Jonah's breath caught. He could feel how wet she was, how ready.
"Jesus, Kelly."
"Less Jesus, more Kelly," she said, pushing him back onto the cot. She straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, her weight pressing him into the thin mattress. "I've been thinking about riding you all day. About watching your face when you realize how badly I need you."
She ground against him, the friction delicious even through all their layers. Jonah's hands found her hips, gripping the curve of them through her uniform pants. She was still wearing most of it, and the sight of her—so properly dressed while being so utterly filthy—made his head spin.
"Condom?" she asked, breathless.
His face fell. "I didn't—I mean, I didn't think—"
Kelly's smile turned knowing. She reached into her pocket and produced a foil packet, holding it up between two fingers. "I'm a cop. I'm always prepared."
She tore it open with her teeth, then reached down to free his cock from his jeans. Her hand was cool and practiced as she rolled the condom on, her touch making him gasp.
"There," she said, positioning herself above him. "Now let's see how much you remember from last time."
She sank down onto him in one smooth motion, both of them groaning at the sensation. He filled her completely, the heat of her wrapping around him like a fist. Kelly's head fell back, her ponytail brushing her shoulders, and she began to move.
"God, you feel so good," she gasped. "So tight—I mean, so hard."
"Kelly, that doesn't make sense," he managed, his hands finding her hips.
"Shut up," she laughed, rolling her hips against him. "Just feel."
He did. The cot creaked beneath them, the sound loud in the small room. Her scent was everywhere—perfume and gun oil and the musk of her arousal. He watched the way her breasts moved beneath her shirt, the way her badge caught the light, and felt his mind go white.
"Look at me," she demanded, her voice dropping back to that commanding register. "I want to see your eyes when you come."
He obeyed, meeting her gaze as she rode him faster. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her hips bucking wildly. The uniform was rumpled now, her shirt coming untucked, her ponytail coming loose.
"I'm close," she warned, a tremor in her voice. "That's it, Jonah. Make your sister come."
Her climax hit her like a wave, her body shuddering around him. He followed a heartbeat later, the sensation pulling him under. For a moment, the world dissolved into nothing but heat and friction and her name on his lips.
Kelly slumped forward, her forehead pressing against his. "Well," she breathed. "That's one way to start a shift."
Jonah laughed, the sound shaky and light. "I can't believe we just did that."
"I can," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I've been thinking about it for days. Ever since you left my apartment."
She climbed off him, adjusting her uniform with practiced efficiency. The condom disappeared into a crumpled wrapper, which she tucked into her pocket with a wink.
"We've got maybe thirty minutes left," she said, zipping her pants. "But I'm not nearly done with you yet."
She knelt on the floor, her hands on her knees, presenting her ass to him. The uniform pants were gone, but her shirt still hung open, revealing the lacy edge of her bra.
"This time," she said, looking over her shoulder, "I want you to take me from behind. Hard. Like you mean it."
He didn't need to be asked twice. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips. She was still slick from their first encounter, and he slid into her with ease.
"Fuck," she hissed. "That's it. Like that."
He set a brutal pace, his hips slapping against her ass. The metal desk rattled with each thrust, papers scattering to the floor. Kelly's hands fisted on the concrete, her nails scraping against the rough surface.
"Harder," she demanded. "Don't you dare go easy on me."
He complied, driving into her with a rhythm that bordered on desperate. The air was thick with the smell of them, sex and sweat and something primal. Kelly's moans grew louder, more reckless.
"Camera," she gasped. "Check the corner."
His eyes darted to the ceiling, where a small red light blinked in the corner. "Kelly, there's a—"
"Dead," she assured him, breathless. "Been dead for months. Barely used this room. Just trust me."
She pushed back against him, taking him even deeper. "Now fuck me like you mean it, little brother. Make me feel it for a week."
He gave her everything he had, his body moving on pure instinct. The metallic tang of the handcuffs still on her belt, the worn leather of her duty gear, everything blended into a haze of sensation. When he came, it was with a raw cry that echoed off the concrete walls.
Kelly collapsed onto the floor, her chest heaving. "Well, shit," she gasped, rolling onto her back. "Didn't expect that to be so good."
He collapsed beside her, his limbs like jelly. "You're going to kill me."
"Not yet," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. "I've got plans for you, Jonah. Big plans."
She checked her watch, a sleek black thing on her wrist. "We've got fifteen minutes before I'm missed. Just relax."
Jonah lay beside her on the grimy floor, but he couldn't quite manage to do what she asked. The air was cool against his overheated skin, and the concrete was unforgiving beneath his back, but all he could focus on was the warmth of Kelly's body beside him. He could feel his mind reeling, even as his body struggled to catch up.
"So what's the plan?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse.
Kelly propped herself up on an elbow, a slow smile spreading across her face. "The plan is, we keep doing this. Every chance we get. And we keep it just between us."
"Is that enough for you?" he pressed.
Her hand found his, squeezing tight. "It's more than enough. I've never had anything this real."
He watched her as she stood and smoothed her hands down her uniform shirt. The fabric settled over her curves, once again proper and professional. She was a police officer again—competent, assured, in control.
The shift was stark. He could still see the flush on her skin, the way her lips were slightly swollen. But when she spoke, her voice was back to that even cadence. "Let's get you out of here before someone wonders where I went."
They slipped out of the holding room, and Jonah felt the fluorescent lights like a physical slap. The precinct had gotten busier, a dozen different conversations and ringing phones assaulting his ears. Kelly led him down the corridor with the same measured confidence, her hand hovering just at the small of his back.
The mustached officer was still by the water cooler, and he gave Jonah a knowing grin. "All done with your tour, kid? We don't usually let civilians into the holding area. You must be special."
"Family privilege," Kelly said smoothly, shouldering past him. "See you around, Peterson."
They reached the glass doors, and Jonah felt the cool air of the parking lot wash over him. He turned to look at Kelly, drinking in the sight of her one last time.
"This was amazing," he said, his voice catching.
"Every time," she said, as close to a promise as she'd come. "Every single time."
She pressed a fleeting kiss to his mouth in a shadowed corner of the entryway, and it was over almost before it began. Her hand found his, gave it a squeeze, and then she was turning, walking away from him into the station.
He watched her until she disappeared around a corner, her silhouette tall and certain against the harsh lights. The ghost of her touch lingered on his skin. He turned and headed for the bus stop, still feeling the press of her hand through the fabric of his jeans.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Kelly, just two words: Tonight again?
He smiled down at the screen. It was only as he typed his reply that he realized his hands were still shaking.