There is a ritual in the way Olivia gets ready for their nights and Justin finds it almost hypnotic. Frank Sinatra spills from the record player, his voice full and rich despite the faint crackling that accompanies all records. Tonight her brown hair tumbles down her back in loose, glossy waves that make Justin want to run his fingers through them, if he wasn't so concerned they'd be ruined. So instead, he settles by resting his hands on her bare shoulders, thumbing the beading on her straps absentmindedly. Their eyes meet in the vanity mirror and she gives him a coy grin.

"You're wearing a new dress." Justin observes. "I like it."

Olivia smiles fully, her red lips parting to reveal gleaming white teeth. "You should, you bought it for me."

Through the mirror Olivia watches Justin smile before pursing his lips and tsking at her. He slips the left strap off her shoulder, pressing his lips to where it sat before tipping his head up and whispering in her ear.

"You're mistaken. Gregory & Sims bank in Springfield bought you that dress. But I'd be happy to buy it from you."

"Oh?" Olivia asks, gasping as Justin's teeth find her earlobe.

"Yes, I'm quite serious." Justin answers, though the teasing lilt in his voice is impossible to hide, at least to Olivia. He's sucking at her neck now, his hands gripping her biceps. "There's just one thing, baby." He whispers, his breath cooling her neck where his mouth just was. "It would be a direct exchange, you see. As in you hand me that dress right," His right hand slips down to squeeze her breast through the thin material. "Now." And he tweaks her nipple with his final word.

All Olivia can answer with is a soft, "mmm," and Justin takes that as a yes. He lifts her to her feet with a tug on her left arm where his hand was still resting. Olivia crains her neck, their lips finally meeting in a rush of tongue, lips, and teeth. She grasps at his tie without her usual deftness and he chuckles against her lips as she struggles to untie the knot. Finally, she manages to free him of it and makes quick work on his white button down, revealing his naked torso, both smooth and hard in the way only a man can be. Their lips separate for the first time and Justin finds that Olivia's lipstick is nearly gone, undoubtedly marring his own lips and neck. Almost immediately after their lips part she begins placing kisses down the column of his neck and nipping at his collar bone as she pushes his oxford of his shoulders. Justin stands still, apart from his hands, which wander down the hourglass curve of her waist until they reach her ass. He grabs it in greedy handfuls, ignoring the annoying prick of beads and sequins stabbing into his palms.

His hands stop so abruptly Olivia stills as well, lifting her head ready to question if something was wrong.

"Why are you still wearing that dress?" He growls, "I bought it from you and I want it...now."

Olivia nods and does as she's told, almost obediently, but the smirk on her face and the gentle sway of her hips say otherwise.

She turns her back to him and bends over, far more than necessary, pressing her ass firmly against the zipper in his slacks. She can feel him, hard and wanting, as she shimmies from left to right and only when his fingertips knead hard enough on her hips to ache does she whip her head around to speak.

"I can't reach the zipper, Jus, help me out, would you?" She asks, her voice breathy.

Justin can tell by the way her eyes are hooded, as if her eyelashes are too heavy, and her almost constant licking of her lips, that she wants him - bad.

"Oh, I'll help you out alright." He stresses, before bending Olivia at a ninety-degree angle, his long fingers, callused at the tips, shoving the dress passed her hips in one nimble motion.

Justin finds her bottom half bare underneath, and it shocks him into stillness, but only momentarily. She's never done this before, but when he sees her right hand between her own legs to part her folds for him everything else is forgotten. He looks to her through the mirror, her pupils fully dilated and they both listen to the jingle and quick zip of Justin losing his pants. Olivia braces herself, fully expecting to feel the smooth warmth of the head, but instead, nothing. Her eyes shot to his in question, to which he responds with a cocky grin and he watches as Olivia's frown of indignation turns into a moan as one of his fingers finds her entrance.

"Shit, baby," Justin says as he slips his index finger in and out. "You're soaked."

It shouldn't really be a surprise for him, really, the day of any heist Justin can almost guarantee Olivia will be horny as fuck. Briefly, he smirks, remembering the last job they pulled and how thirty miles outside the city he fucked her on the hood of his car, while the heat from the hard worked engine burned her ass. Olivia's mewls pull Justin from his memory and he slips another finger in, his thumb circling her clit while his other hand grasps her ass.

She's rocking back on his hand now, her eyes shut and mouth open, panting, chasing her orgasm. He can tell she's close by the way her walls clench his fingers but just as she's about to come he pulls his fingers out. Olivia turns her head, ready to scream, her chest heaving as the tingles of pre-orgasm leave her body.

Her fingers splay across the surface of the vanity as she speaks. "What are you do-"

And then the head of Justin's cock rubs right against her clit and his chest, damp with sweat, presses to her back. His chin hooks over her shoulder and he asks, "What do you want me to do, Liv?"

He slides his dick up and teases her entrance before repeating his words again.

"What do you want me to do?"

She knows, now, that he wants to hear her say it. And always being one who indulges in the finest things possible, in all forms of pleasure, she knows not to deny him.

"Fuck me, Justin."

She groans, arching her back in relief as he rams into her, sheathing himself completely in one stroke. Her eyes are closed in pleasure, she can feel him pulse inside of her and she fleetingly wishes she had time to see him before he entered her. His chest lifts off her back, their skin pulling apart a little reluctantly, and he doesn't move an inch.

"Look at me, Liv." He orders, his hands making lazy trails from her shoulders down her back, to her hips where he grips her hard enough to leave a mark.

Her eyes fly open, finding his instantly in the mirror, and it's then that he pulls out to the tip. Olivia watches as his own eyelids flutter at the motion, but his weakness is over in a split second and he's pounding into her with no avail. Her brush, with its sterling silver handle clanks against the oak of the vanity as Justin thrusts. She watches him amid the haze of pleasure and feels herself flood when his chin dips to his chest to watch his cock enter and leave her body. It's when he starts to do this little dip with his hips that Olivia finds keeping her eyes open impossible, and the shut on their own accord. His hands move from her hips to her ass, taking rough handfuls to pull her back against him. His balls are hitting her clit, sending little jolts of electricity to the tips of her toes when she feels the slap.

"I said look at me." He half snarls half moans, loving the look of her hair spilling farther down her back when she throws her head back in satisfaction.

Her eyes lock with his while one of her hands reaches to pull a breast out of her dress and roll her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah." Justin breathes, breathless, starting up his stroke again with the same vigor. He watches her, her chest jiggling, her hips meeting thrust for thrust and this time he says nothing when her eyes fall closed. 

Olivia's moans get louder with each plunge, his cock getting deeper and deeper, hitting that spot inside that she didn't even know existed until Justin. She feels her muscles tighten, signaling what she and Justin both know is coming. This time it happens gradually, starting at her core and working its way out to the tips of her fingers and toes. Justin doesn't stop, working his way through the spastic squeezing walls around him, and enjoying Olivia's gasps of his name over and over again. A few more and Justin rests against her back again as he coats her walls, giving a final thrust as he presses kisses to her shoulder blades.

The room is at last completely silent, save for the repeating scratch of the Frank Sinatra record, long since finished. He feels her lift her head and their eyes lock, again through the mirror. He gives her a sheepish smile, which she returns, and the same look of loss pass across their faces as he pulls out. She turns to him on wobbly knees, her dress still hiked above her hips, and gives his Adams apple a delicate kiss. He wears her out every time, she never knows what to expect except for the fact that she'll never have a disappointing time.

Justin notices Olivia's hair is ruined, completely, and they don't have time to fix it before they do the job, so they make a wordless agreement to push the robbery to tomorrow. Afterall, they haven't been caught yet. And they won't be. Because they're invincible, untouchable, unbeatable. Bulletproof.

 

 

Her heels echo across the marble floor as she enters the bank. Patrons turn and stare, it's hard not to with someone like Olivia. All polished charm and feline movements and she's slow - smooth - as she makes her way across the floor. The teller she chooses is a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit who seems just as enchanted with her as the rest. He's so distracted by the small smile she gives him he doesn't notice the revolver clutched flush against her chest until it's too late. She shakes her head once when his mouth opens, ready to yell and points her gun to his head.

"Uh uh uh," She patronizes, her gun moving with each shake of her head.

He freezes, and all around them people are oblivious. Then Justin strolls in, the same small smile on his face and his Tommy gun resting solidly against his torso. Panic breaks loose and patrons spill from the lobby into the streets. In reality, they should be at least a little bit fearful that someone will find a police officer before they make their exit, but he's not. They're not. And really...they don't need to be. He pulls a black leather bag from his shoulder, tosses it to the man and it hits him in the face more than he catches it.

"Fill it up." He orders, gesturing with his gun to the vault to their left.

Olivia follows him while Justin turns to the rest of the bank workers, smiling casually, nodding to an elderly woman at a desk, picking up a pen a patron had dropped in shock, all the while his Tommy gun is perched on his shoulder. That is, until he sees a young worker about his age who looks ready for a fight.

"You." Justin calls, his gun zeroing in on the man in the brown blazer and cheap loafers, ignoring the ripple of screams from people too stupid to leave when they had the chance. "Go lock the front doors."

As if he just realizes there was an actual robbery taking place the man seems suddenly afraid, his hands visibly shaking as he turns the key once over and hands the metal ring over to Justin on his way back to his station. Only seconds pass before the teller emerges from the vault, his nose swollen and bleeding. Olivia follows him out, not a hair out of place, her gun still pointing at the back of his head, and the large leather bag, now filled to the brim, slung over her shoulder.

She makes her way to his side and he instantly pulls the heavy bag off of her and hoists it onto his shoulder - they may be robbing banks but Justin was raised to be a gentleman.

"What did he do to you?" Justin murmurs, shoving his gun roughly in the direction of the teller who is now trying hopelessly to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. He knows she would never hurt someone without reason.

Olivia smiles softly and holds up the butt of her gun, stained a blotchy red. "I took care of it."

But that's not enough for Justin, its not the point. He whips around to face the teller once again. "What did you do to her?!" He shouts, his finger moving to the trigger.

It's almost comical, the bottom half of his face is obscured by piles of tissue, but the man's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"I said," Justin starts, his voice a deadly whisper, "what did you do to her?"

Olivia glances through the large windows and she can see half a dozen police officers running their way.  They're still far enough away that Justin and Olivia don't have to be concerned with being caught, but she can already hear the rumble of their feet as they run. "Baby, we don't have time for this. They're coming." The Southern tendencies in her speech becoming more apparent in her concern.

Justin keeps his eyes trained on the teller but his stance relaxes and his finger falls from the trigger. "You're lucky she had already dealt with you." He adds offhandedly.

He hands Olivia the keys to the front doors and together they stroll away as if they had just made a deposit. Their car, a baby blue Austin, is where they left it, half a block to the right. They half walk half jog their way towards it, laughing to each other as the doors swing open. Still laughing as they toss their guns and the bag of money into the back seat.

Their laughter dies however, when the car refuses to start. The engine turns over and over, but to no avail does car respond. Justin and Olivia lock eyes, wide open and wild, panic washing over them in waves.

"Give it a second." Olivia urges, glancing back towards the bank, watching as the teller she hit with the butt of her gun points the police in the right direction.

Justin turns the key, presses the clutch and the roar of the engine is like coming up for air. They peel away from the sidewalk, only moments from being apprehended and begin laughing wildly. Olivia turns in her seat, looking back at the six dumbfounded police officers before throwing her head back and laughing some more. Justin cheers and woops, smacking his hand a couple times on the steering wheel before they disappear from the cops sight all together.

----

Justin tips the bag over the bed and money flees from it like hundreds of green birds. Olivia claps and cheers as he does it, and he cheers too, tossing the bag blindly across the hotel room, his heart racing like a wild horse. His whole body is buzzing with it, the rush, the thrill, the horror when the car wouldn't start, followed by the relief when it did. And he's breathless, remembering the screech of the tires as they sped down the road, windows rolled down, the tips of his ears and nose still a little numb from the cold February air.

"It's beautiful." She says, staring down at the money spread across the bed.

"No, you are. So fucking beautiful," he says, and he's grabbing her, kissing her, hard.  So hard she stumbles back onto the bed.

Then he's on top of her, tongue curling into her mouth as she pushes his trench coat off his broad shoulders, fingers unbuttoning his shirt with ease.

"What'd he do to you?" He whispers, hissing as she cups him through his trousers.

Olivia looks up, confused at first, but understanding flickers in her eyes and she pushes up to rest on her elbows. She answers simply, her hand still rubbing at his hardening length through his pants.

"He tried to take my gun."

And then it all makes sense to Justin. Her revolver, gleaming silver with a mother of pearl grip, is her most prized possession, the only thing she's got left to remind her of her father.

He smiles feebly, seeing the pensive look in her eyes and feeling the way her hand has stopped moving. He leans down to kiss her again, because loves, loves, loves her, but his palm slips on the banknotes still covering the bed, and his nose bump hers. She giggles, so he does too, and then she kisses him.

The crisp bills crinkle under her weight as she shifts to get better access to his fly. She reaches for his belt, undoing it and his pants with no fanfare, her hand finding his erection with a slow smile as he gasps, his knees skidding on another bundle of twenties.  She strokes him firmly, and he's dizzy, dizzy with the roll of her fingers and the smell of her hair mixed with the new banknotes. Olivia pushes at his shoulders with her free hand, getting him to roll over so they're side by side on their backs. Before he really knows what happened Olivia is dress-less and her tongue is running up and down his shaft. Her hair was pinned back in a neat bun this morning, but strands have begun to fall away, grazing her face and tickling his hips. The flared ridge at the edge of the head is inviting, so she licks that too, and Justin sighs.  He settles back, one hand going to stroke her hair, weaving his fingers in the stray pieces that have fallen out. She swirls her tongue over the tip and Justin groans.

"God, just like that."

Olivia wraps a hand around his length and closes her mouth over the head, sucking lightly and tonguing that little bead of skin she knows drives him wild. His hips arch when she tongues it again, spreading his legs wider for her when she releases him with a soft pop and blows over where her mouth just was. He's panting a little and she hears him hiss when she sucks at the slit, her hand moving up and down his shaft gently.

Justin sighs a breathless, "Yeah, babe," which turns into a low groan when Olivia presses her thumb to that patch on the glands while she continues to suck and lick at his slit. His hand tightens in her hair and she watches out of the corner of her eye his fist clench and unclench on the small bit of comforter he was able to find. She relaxes her throat, opening her mouth a little wider and takes as much of his cock inside her mouth that'll fit. He makes a funny sound, high pitched and melodic, when she does this, caught off guard completely. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, and she gags a bit, but doesn't stop sucking. She does it as long as she can, listening to his moans and bitten off versions of her name, until his hands find her shoulders and he pushes her off of him.

The squeak of the bedsprings and the new view of the ceiling tell her Justin has flipped them, but Olivia really has no idea how it happened.

"Gonna fuck you, Liv" he breathes, putting a hand between her legs to make sure she's ready "Gonna fuck you right here on all this money."

She smiles, looking at him from under those thick eyelashes. She can feel him between her thighs, hot, hard, slick from her and from him, and when she wiggles against it her own slickness answers, too. "Go ahead, I was wet before we walked into that bank."

And when he slides into her, she gasps like she did when the car tore away from the bank.

She arches to meet him and they go slowly at the outset, setting a pace that's strong but lingering. His stroke feels incredible, his cock thick and solid inside her, his fingers coaxing on the outside, around and against her clit, making her shiver and rock back and forth faster, harder. But when she tries to take control he stills completely, wagging his finger in front of her eyes, a cocky grin on his face.

She clenches him inside of her, once, twice, and that's all it takes for the smirk to disappear from his face. Sheer determination and a furrowed brow replace it. He starts thrusting again, a little faster now, but still just as strong, just as deep.

Olivia wants to outlast him this time, just this once, because it's his night, tonight, she decides, and she wants to wring him of his orgasm before her own mind is shattered, but she can't. She's tightening around him and his fingers are circling, and rubbing, and teasing until she wants to beg. But she won't, she isn't going to, until he takes two of her own fingers and sucks them into his mouth. She has no idea why it feels so good, maybe because she knows what he can do with his tongue on other parts of her body. She watches like a rag doll as he pulls them out and presses them to her own clit and she comes then, crying out his name, her fingers on her clit and his cock inside of her.

Justin drives into her still, through the waves of her orgasm, deep and hard and she wraps her legs around his waist, grabbing at his ass to push him in further. She can feel another orgasm building, faster this time.

Justin tangles his hands in the remnants of her bun and tells her fiercely, "Touch yourself for me." She comes again, fiery and good.

It must set him off too, because that's when he comes, forehead pressed against her neck, gasping out her name and emptying himself into her. She holds him through the aftershocks, as his body jerks out the last tremors of his climax. He lies over her for a moment, both of them limp and panting, before he pushes up onto his elbows and smiles down at her. And she knows that grin means trouble.

He's still inside her, the freshly stolen banknotes still beneath her, when Justin asks, "Where to next?"

She knows that smile means trouble, she does. But when the grin itching to be shown finally makes its way to her lips Olivia knows her smile must mean something twice as bad.

Most days now, Justin wakes up in the early morning, body tense, an arm around Olivia, and the other reaching blindly for his gun. It’s just one of those things that comes with his line of work, he tells himself. And like most mornings, when he turns his head to find Olivia sprawled across her side of the bed, her head on his arm, oblivious to everything around her, he can’t help but smile. She can sleep through anything. She can sleep during anything. He asked her once, if she ever wakes up the way he does, but she just smiled and told him no. They joke that it’s because what they’re doing is in her genes, and, well, to Justin, it’s really the only thing that makes sense.

----

Olivia’s birth father, known by most as Fast Talking Freddie, was a small time criminal in the south. He stuck generally to local jobs, stealing jewelry from pawnshops or breaking into safes their owners thought impenetrable. He was good at being invisible, good at picking locks and leaving before anyone noticed something was missing, but what he really excelled at was talking. It was how he got the numbers to the safes and the jewelry out of their cases. Two minutes with him and he’d have you believing he was the governor of Oklahoma, needing to borrow those diamond cuff links for an official campaign party.

Olivia even told Justin years ago, that she suspected her mom and dad were never really in love at all, that she was just another challenge her father had decided to pursue. But her mother didn’t mind, her mother wouldn’t have had it any other way. She left him on her own accord before Olivia turned five, and remarried a wealthy landowner in Mississippi not six months later.

Olivia told Justin, late one night when their plans for wealth and glory had just begun to take shape, what her mother had said.

“There’re only two things that man will ever love.” Olivia repeated, her southern accent becoming heavy and pronounced, in what Justin assumed to be her mother’s voice.

“And what are those?” Justin questioned, running his fingers up and down Olivia’s naked arm.

Her mother’s voice answered, “Money and you, Livvy, money and you.”

Justin chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips and rolling on top of her. “Your dad and I have a lot in common.”

And what Olivia’s mom had said was true, it was why Olivia was given his lucky pistol the night before he died, doing a job he knew was too big and too grand for his skills. And more importantly, why on that same day her father let her in on his best kept secret. For seven years, he had been working on a list, a list of ten banks with the greatest amount of money kept on hand, all leading to Miami, the final bank, and a million ways out of the country.

----

Justin and Olivia try something new in Pittsburg. The two of them stroll into the bank together, guns at the ready, smiles on their faces, and ropes in their hands. Justin says it’s just another way to get things done, but Olivia knows it has everything to do with the bank manager in Detroit almost taking her gun.

“We’ve got it from here.” Justin tells the bank manager with a happy smirk, leaving him tied up with the others.

He trots down the stairs to the vault, his tommy gun strapped across his back, whistling Sinatra and snapping his fingers. When he returns to the safe Olivia is stuffing their bag with bundles of money and it doesn’t even look real, the new banknotes an unnatural shade of green.

She’s in heels and a trench coat and he reaches for the belt, swinging her around until her back is pressed against the metal shelves along the wall. The first place he kisses her is the underside her wrist because he’s greedy and he wants her skin and her pulse all at once.

“What are you doing?” Olivia says, arching an eyebrow as he grabs the bag and lets it drop to the floor.

“You.” He answers, eying her with a predatory gaze and untying her trench to expose her neat sweater and pencil skirt.

“Here? Let’s just get the money and go. We’re already on borrowed time.”

“We live our lives on borrowed time, baby,” he says, cupping her cheek in his hand and smudging his thumb across her bottom lip. And when he leans in to kiss her, their faces are so close he could count her eyelashes if he wanted to, but they don’t have the time, they haven’t had time for a while.

Justin grasps the back of her neck, holding her steady and she sighs as his tongue slides hotly against hers. His kisses are everywhere, her jaw, the length of her neck, back to her ear, and she moans when his teeth tug at her earring, his breath hot and his mouth moist. The pads of her fingers press to his cheeks, feeling the two days growth of stubble they planned in a feeble attempt at disguise, though they know it’s unnecessary. She arches her back, letting her hips grind against Justin’s thigh, where he’s hot and throbbing under his zipper. He can feel her through his trousers, warm and wet already, just from his lips on hers.

Justin’s hands move from her neck to the hem of her skirt, to soft cotton and to softer skin. She kisses him again, fiercely this time, like she’s trying to memorize the moment, with the feel of his hands smoothing up her thighs and the cool metal at her back. He tastes warm and smoky – like the ultimate adrenaline rush and it makes her light-headed. Then his hands are on her panties. They rip like paper and his fingers slip through the shreds of lace left over.

A breathless oh is released into his mouth as he touches her lips with calloused fingers, circling her clit until she goes limp in his arms. And she wants to undo his belt and unzip his slacks, but when their eyes lock when his fingers find her center all is forgotten.  She’s slick with need and his lips tug upwards into a smirk that says is this for me? And she feels herself flood even more, nodding her head yes at his unspoken question. He slides a finger in easily, stroking her a few times before adding another and she’s not even kissing him anymore, just pressing her open mouth against his and moaning helplessly. He curls his fingers inside, hitting her g-spot effortlessly and Olivia lets out a loud, “Oh, fuck!” her head falling back to slam against the wall, making the metal drawers rattle and echo up the stairs.

Before she can tell him he shouldn’t, that they don’t have the time, Justin is on his knees. He throws one milky white leg over his shoulder, grinning at her devilishly and placing wet kisses up her thigh. By the time he makes it up her leg her fingers are tugging at his hair impatiently, trying to press his mouth to her pussy. He gives a chaste kiss to her slit, his blue eyes, now dark with lust, watch her face as he does it. She nearly comes from the sight alone, and she’s almost ashamed at the unabashed whimper she makes until he ducks his head again and swipes the widest part of his tongue across her moist slit, bottom to top. Olivia groans, her hips grinding in the air, a futile attempt at friction once his tongue leaves her body.

“You like that, baby?” Justin asks, his mouth centimeters away, his voice gravely, the vibrations from his speech sending sunbursts of pleasure behind her eyes. She wraps her hands in the short strands of his hair pushing his head back between her legs as she hisses out a gasping, “Yes.”

She has more to say but is cut off when Justin’s tongue makes contact with her clit, and it dissolves into a helpless groan. She watches, his eyes are closed, and she can see the muscles in his jaw clinch and relax as he works his mouth over her. His tongue never leaves her clit, sucking and licking, but it feels like he’s everywhere at once, and when he slides one long, talented finger into her tight heat she’s done for, coming apart under his mouth.

He smiles as he pulls back, sucking on his own finger to clean off her juices as he places her wobbly leg back on the ground. Justin captures her mouth in a kiss that tastes like her but it’s cut short because her breath is still ragged. When they break away his hands are at his fly, unbuckling, unzipping until his pants and briefs are puddled around his ankles. Olivia reaches out for his cock, running her thumb over his slit and together, they groan when she angles him so the head of his cock finds her entrance, dripping now, soaked from her first orgasm.

“God, Liv,” He mumbles, his chin tucked to his chest as he watches as she moves his head to slip between her lips and then up to tease her clit. Olivia’s free hand grips his shoulder and her nails bite into the skin of his neck when he presses in again, struggling, but managing to stopping once just the head is sheathed. Justin grabs at her thigh, wrapping it around his waist and he watches her face when he slides all the way in with one swift thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” she says, breathless, and her head knocks against the wall again. She bends her knee, making him stutter step towards her, and it just pushes him in deeper.

Then she’s off the ground, Justin’s large palm warm on the back of her thigh, moving her other leg to hook at the ankle around his waist. It sends him even deeper and when she looks up at him, his plush bottom lip is pulled between his teeth in pleasure and his cheeks tinged pink with the strain, she almost comes right then. Olivia can feel him twitching inside her, and she rolls her hips experimentally, jumping when her clit rubs against his pubic bone. He starts slow, his hands sliding from her thighs to her ass, grabbing it roughly and slamming her against him. One of his hands move to brace himself against the wall and she wraps her arms around his shoulders to balance them. They can’t use their names, so when Justin starts to pound into her she chants the second best thing.

“oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

They’re loud. Louder than normal – with hands and backs and hips slamming against the metal drawers. Olivia’s gasps and Justin’s low moans rumble from his chest to echo up the marble stairs where the workers are still tied up and he knows they can hear them. But fuck, it just makes him harder. He’s working her hard, pounding into her with a primal lust she hasn’t seen since they first met. They reach a point where she can barely tell when he leaves and enters her body, all she feels is the glorious pleasure created by the frantic plunge of his cock in and out her. One of her shoes falls off, landing on the hard floor with a clatter when he slams her into the wall again. Her hands are fisting in his hair, pulling his head back so she can lave at the column of his neck, sucking at his Adams apple, biting where his shoulder and neck meet.

His right hand lifts from where it was gripping her ass to pull her mouth away from his neck. Their eyes meet and she’s so close, so close, watching his brows furrow in pleasure, fighting to keep his eyes open. Justin’s lips collide hers in a fiery kiss and when their tongues touch Olivia comes again, clenching around his dick and bucking her hips against his pelvis. Both Justin’s hands grab her ass to make sure they don’t tip, but his thrusts remain steady through her orgasm, his teeth biting at her bottom lip to keep her from yelling his name. He feels that familiar pull in his belly that tells him he’s almost there, and not seconds later he comes, spraying load after load into Olivia, holding still until he’s completely soft inside her.

His forehead falls to her shoulder, where the cashmere of her sweater does nothing to quell the burn he feels everywhere. Her legs slide down his, unsteady at first, like a newborn doe, before she finds her bearings. Justin lifts his head, though it takes more energy than he’d like to admit, and reaches down to pull his briefs and pants back up his legs. He almost laughs when, as soon as her skirt is back at an appropriate length, Olivia begins where she was interrupted, stuffing more money into their bag.

“We can’t forget these, can we?” Justin asks with that trademark bank robber smirk, her red lace panties dangling in shreds from his index finger.

Olivia’s head shoots up and she’s surprised to feel herself blush when he answers his own question and tucks them in the breast pocket of his suit, her panties now acting as a new pocket square.

They leave the bank wearing rumpled clothes, flushed cheeks, and satisfied smiles only the best kind of sex can bring. As they pass the people, tied and gagged just as they were left, a ring with a large ruby solitaire glints at Justin. Without hesitating he wiggles it off a shocked and fearful bank customer before sliding it onto Olivia’s middle finger.

“Couldn’t have picked a better one myself,” he says, staring at the ring and then back to Olivia. He throws an arm around her waist, the other carrying the black leather bag as they walk out the bank doors into the late morning sun of February. 

 

From the first day they met, Olivia thought Justin to be so much like her father. Or how he could have been – if given the right tools, the right partner. And maybe that’s why she was so drawn to him when they met at the University of Chicago.  On that first day of statistics, he grinned at her from across the room and she knew she was done for. His eyes, a clear blue she could see from the doorway, were dancing, calling her to him. He was sitting slumped in his desk, his slacks rising from his scuffed loafers where she could see his white socks. And on a normal occasion, this would have been a fatal mistake for anyone trying to get Olivia’s attention, that smile, though, his smile, drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Even as she took a deep breath and walked to the empty desk next to his, she knew she was risking a burn, and she was right. In their first year together they argued more often than they didn’t, and they fucked more often than they spoke. They were explosive and passionate, and together had all the qualities to set the world on fire. But as time went on, underneath their outbursts and tantrums, in the quiet moments between passion and anger, an unwavering love and a fierce loyalty developed.

Where Justin is sly and seductive, Olivia is able to charm people into doing most anything. They are the perfect combination. A lethal mix of attraction and allure, one that can have the public fearful but still deeply fascinated. From there, their plans take shape.

----

Despite the relative notoriety their work brings them, foregoing their usual visits to nightclubs is out of the question. There is something about sitting quietly amidst the countless round tables on the floor that calms Olivia. It seems as though only though the blare of the band and the haze of cigarette smoke is she able to hear her own thoughts clearly. Her thoughts, which currently, have been on nothing else but how to execute the next part of their plan. They’ve robbed a total of six banks since they started, each one relatively uneventful, some close calls, but never anything they couldn’t handle, and briefly, as Olivia takes a sip of her martini, she wonders when their luck will run out.

Justin slips back into his seat, adjusting his tie before sliding an arm around Olivia’s chair and reaching for his glass.

“He’s here.” He says, his voice echoing strangely from deep within his tumbler.

Olivia holds her neck still but her eyes flick through the crowd, looking for their mark until she finds him…Adam Fischer.

Adam Fischer is a handsome young man who works at the next bank, and whose sole responsibility is to create and keep track of each code for the vaults and their surrounding doors. The next bank on their list is the most secure yet, and Justin and Olivia both know in order to get the job done with enough time for their escape they need the codes before they enter the bank, and that means they need Fischer.

Adam Fischer sits alone at a table about twenty feet away, and they watch him carefully as he tosses back bourbon after bourbon carelessly. They wait until he’s good and drunk before standing together and making their way to his table. Olivia clutches the last dregs of her martini in one hand, the other arm wrapped loosely in the crook of Justin’s arm. They stumble their way towards his table, her fake giggles ringing through the air like bells. Finally they reach two empty chairs at his table, and with a sigh, Olivia falls into the one right next to him.

She spills a bit of her martini as Justin pulls up the chair next to her before sitting down.

“You don’t mind, do you?” She asks, her normally slight southern accent turning strong and pronounced. Olivia smiles lightly, keeping her eyes a little unfocused for good measure.

Fischer shakes his head with a grin and takes another sip of his bourbon. “Not at all, not at all.”

“You’ll have to excuse my darling Margaret.” Justin says, leaning forward to address Fischer, who eyes the way Justin’s hands seem to inch their way up Olivia’s thigh. “I believe she’s had one too many martini’s and well, she doesn’t really drink very often.” Justin gives him a wry smile.

“Don’t be silly, Don,” Olivia says, leaning towards Fischer, her hand slipping past his smoking jacket to finger a button on his dress shirt where she gives him a nice pat. “He doesn’t mind…do you?” Her finger slips in between the bit exposed by the space between buttons and strokes what bare skin she finds before turning slowly to Justin, a small smile on her face. “See?”

Justin’s eyes are locked on Fischer and is not surprised to see a look of loss flit past his eyes when Olivia let’s her hand slide out from his shirt and back to Justin’s lap. “Come on, baby,” Olivia whispers to Justin, loud enough for Fischer to hear, even facing away from him.

Justin regards Fischer with faux suspicion before nodding his head once, his eyes falling onto Olivia’s face, as he watches her wink once before turning to Fischer again, a predatory glint in her eyes when she says, “Come to our room with us, won’t you?”

Even in his drunken state Fischer sputters and looks from Olivia to Justin and back again.

“Excuse me?” He asks, finishing the last of his bourbon in an attempt to calm the nervous tremor in his hands when she speaks.  

“You heard her.” Justin says, his voice calm yet cajoling, sliding his calloused palms down Olivia’s shoulders and arms before clasping her hands in his. “Or do you want her to say it again?” He asks, and Olivia can hear the smirk in his voice.

“N-No, that’s not necessary.” Fischer answers, standing on shaky legs and gestures to the door. “Lead the way.”

Justin let’s go of Olivia’s hands somewhat begrudgingly, and allows her to slip her palm in Fischer’s, pulling him along out into the open March air until they finally reach their hotel room.

Olivia glances towards Fischer and giggles as she fumbles with the key, he grins back at her drunkenly, seeming to forget that there is another man behind him who’s a part of the party just as much as he is. Justin stands sentinel behind Fischer, making sure no one sees him as they all make their way into the hotel room.

Fischer’s hands find Olivia’s bare shoulders as she fiddles with her clutch for something and Justin feels the burn of jealousy tight in his chest. That is, until she turns, that coy smile having left her lips and the barrel of her gun sliding to the center of his chest, where her fingers were moments before.

Fischer falls back onto the bed in his shock and the springs squeak as if mimicking his own outrage. Both his hands are behind his back, spread wide on the comforter, slipping farther backward in his attempt at escaping her gun.

Olivia walks towards the bed, and Justin follows her lead, pulling the pistol from inside his slacks out and aiming directly at Fischer’s head.

“Surprise.” Justin says, coming to stand hip to hip with Olivia.

It seems the fear has sobered Fischer up, because his next words are less slurred, though the sharp point of trepidation after each word isn’t lost.

“The two of you…together…and me…”

“Yes, darling, work it out. It’s all there, in your head.” Olivia drawls with a condescending smile.

“What do you want from me?!” Fischer asks.

“We know who you work for. And what you do for him,” Olivia answers.

“We want the codes to the vault, Fischer.” Justin continues as if talking to a child, “You give us the codes – the right codes – we go to work with you tomorrow morning, and you can leave the bank tomorrow alive.”

With a swallow and a final glance down the barrel of their guns, Fischer nods his head reluctantly. “Okay.”

----

The bank in the morning would be eerie to Olivia, if she was ever scared of anything. The empty atrium is silent and the air feels almost thick but it does nothing but confirm their safety to her. After the slight hiccup two jobs ago, Olivia and Justin decide the less obvious the better, so they follow Fischer into the bank when it opens. Their guns are kept hidden, but they’ve made it clear to Fischer one wrong move will guarantee the loss of his life. Justin watches as he pulls the key from the gold-framed door and turns back to them, keeping his eyes on the ground.

 “Follow me,” he says, and this time, with no hostages to keep an eye on, they both go.

It seems like a maze as they walk through corridor after corridor, all seemingly identical, but at the end of each, a different five-digit code is needed. When the next door opens there isn’t another hallway, instead, a large metal door greets them less than a foot away from their faces.

Justin’s heartbeat quickens, this is always the best part of any job. Opening vault doors gives him the exactly the same rush as when he unzips Olivia’s dresses. And briefly, as Fischer walks towards the vault, all Justin sees is the smooth expanse of Olivia’s back flanked by the deep burgundy of her dress. A small click brings Justin back from his daydream as Fischer swings the heavy door open and allows Olivia to step inside.

The gathering of the money is quick; she stuffs it into their black leather bags while Justin stands at the entrance, watching Fischer and making sure no one comes looking for them. By the time they get back to the atrium, a few customers have entered the bank, and as their weapons, now drawn from their jackets, come into view scattered screams echo through the building. Justin has one hand on the door handle when a little boy’s voice echoes through the atrium.

“Are you bank robbers?” the kid asks curiously as his little hands cling to his mother’s skirt.

Olivia stops in her tracks and turns slowly to look at the child. She nods her head once, and leans down to the child’s level.

“What’s your name?” He asks, moving out a little from behind his mother.

“Olivia,” she says with that pied piper smile. “What’s yours?”

“Billy,” he answers all big eyes and a dusting of freckles on his nose.

“Pleasure to meet you, Billy.” Justin finishes and they walk out of the bank with their bags.   

----

Justin slips through their hotel room door with his fedora pulled down low over his brow and a newspaper folded under his arm. Olivia is caught off guard by the domesticity of his movements; the tired removal of his wool coat and the subtle adjustment of his suspenders have her reeling. But before she has time to fully contemplate the funny fluttering in her stomach, his smile, bright, white and incredibly guilty dazzles the thought away.

He hands her the newspaper, his bicep brushing against her breasts as he walks by and falls into the plush velvet armchair in the corner. The paper, still warm as if it was just off the press, feels heavy in her hands. Olivia looks down, and starring back at her on the front page of the Cincinnati Post is a photo of the bank they robbed not two days before. She scans the article frantically, feeling tendrils of fear and adrenaline mixed with the tiniest bit of pride weave through her system. As quick as it comes, the fear disappears, and her shaky laugh is the only sound in the room. Thankfully, she finds no pictures, only a hilariously inaccurate description of Justin, and a not so inaccurate one of herself.

“Fischer.” Olivia declares, “I think he may just be a little embarrassed.” she says with a smirk and tosses the newspaper into the trash without a second glance.

Justin scowls as he folds his arms across his chest. His deep green oxford pulls tight across his shoulders silhouetting the muscles of his chest. “I don’t know what idiot said that I was 5’6. You’re taller than that.”

Olivia smiles and hums in agreement, enjoying his pout as she straddles his waist, nestling her thighs in between his and the armrests of the chair. She stretches her arms behind his head, letting her nails drag through the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“You having second thoughts, baby?” She coos, enjoying the quiet sigh that he breathes onto her collarbone when she seats herself fully on his lap.

His hands reach to cup her ass, the cotton of her skirt rests around them like a circus tent as she settles, and he growls a little when she shifts, rolling her hips forward.

He speaks with half-lidded eyes, admiring the bow of her lips and contrast of the course fabric of her jacket to the smoothness of her skin. “Never. We’re now famous, Liv. How could I back out?”

She laughs again, and it’s deep and sultry – the exact female equivalent of Justin’s.

“No, Justin – we’re infamous. There’s a difference.” And she captures his lips the same way she steals all that money – deliberate and forceful, with just a little bit of improvisation.

She gasps into his mouth when their lips meet – she’s always a little shocked at how well he seems to know her and what she wants. His lips enclose on her bottom one briefly, and when he pulls back, his hands find their way into her jacket, shucking it off her shoulders and onto the carpet below them.  He holds her neck in his hands, keeping her still as his lips navigate their way from her chin to her jaw and back again. She can feel him hardening beneath her with every rock of her hips, every gasp breathed across his skin and she doesn’t want to wait any longer.

His shirt is warm when she pulls it from his slacks, the bottom button popping undone in her haste.

“Anxious?” he whispers, tonguing the shell of her ear, letting his hands run up and down her back.

Olivia says nothing but rolls her hips onto his hardening cock, and when he hisses into her ear, there are no words needed. She chuckles again and pushes the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders before grazing her palm down his still covered chest to cup him through his slacks. He’s fully hard now, straining against his zipper, taught against the right side of his pants. Their eyes meet as she rubs him and it seems like the world has gone silent except for their labored breathing.

Justin almost rips the zipper out of Olivia’s dress in his attempt at removal, but when it falls forward and he undoes her bra with a simple flick, nothing else matters. Her nipples are rosebud pink and stiff as the cool hotel air hits them, but when Justin cups her left breast in his hand slips her nipple into his mouth they seem to harden even more. There is something exquisite, Olivia decides, in the contrast of Justin’s cool callused hand and the warm smoothness of his mouth, and it does nothing but make her roll her hips into his again in anticipation.

Somehow, Olivia manages to release Justin’s cock from inside his slacks and briefs, and he’s already leaking precum when she thumbs the head of his cock. His mouth leaves her breast with a pop and for a few minutes he rests his head back in the chair and watches Olivia stroke his cock. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth when he groans, her hand moving in time with his sighs, twisting at the head before each down stroke. He’s almost purple with want when she licks her lips and glances up into his eyes as her thumb flicks the little bead of skin on the head. She swipes the slit once more with her thumb before bringing it up to her mouth to lick away the moisture.

Justin groans, loud and appreciative, and that’s enough. “Lift,” he says, adding a small sigh when Olivia goes right back to stroking his cock as she rises. He pushes her panties to the side, and he can feel they’re soaked. With his free hand he reaches under her skirt and slips a finger into her wetness. She moans when he adds another finger, releasing his cock and bracing her hands on the back of the armchair. The air fills with her whimpers as he plunges his fingers in and out. She’s wet and so, so hot, and the way her fingernails grip his shoulders, digging half moon divots into his skin, send him into overdrive. He pulls his fingers out, making Olivia’s brow furrow in confusion at the loss. Justin strokes himself once, giving a small sound of appreciation before teasing her clit with his cock. He slips easily between her lips, sliding from her clit to her entrance and back again. Her eyelids flutter closed each time he swipes at her clit, and when he finally positions his cock at her entrance he pulls her chin towards him and captures her lips.

Olivia moans into his mouth when he slides the head of his cock into her, and when he presses her hips down so she seats herself on him fully, her back arches tight as a bowstring. She throws her head back in ecstasy, the loose curls of her once neat hairdo cascade down her back and do nothing to cover her chest.

He decides she looks beautiful then, her breasts are pink and swollen from the attention he gave them earlier, and the way they sway when she lifts back onto her knees is almost hypnotizing. She starts riding him in earnest then, working her hips in a maddening rhythm, her thighs squeezing tight around his hips, her inner muscles clenching at his cock. She’s warm and tight and so beautiful to watch, but when she starts moving faster he can’t help but close his eyes. The light slapping sound of skin on skin and their breathless gasps are the only sounds in the room.

Olivia grabs for Justin’s hair, holding the curls at the nape of his neck as she rides him. She sits herself on him fully, again, enjoying the fullness and the shock of pleasure when she grinds her clit against his pelvic bone. When she rises again she lets out a hushed yes and revels in the tight, white-hot stretched feeling of his cock sliding in and out, the steady pressure of his hips against her as she rides him, the little thumping vibrations sending sparks through her entire pelvic bone, forcing moans from her throat on impact.

Justin meets her, thrust for thrust, alternating between pressing her breasts together and grabbing her ass through the fabric of her dress. Olivia slams down onto his cock and he lets out a moan so strangled, filled with so much need that her rhythm falters. His eyes are open, now, watching her face and she stills completely to catch his mouth with her own for a moment. His tongue in her mouth is aggressive and his teeth on her lip are rough.

Her legs began to shake as she starts again, and when Justin slides a hand under her skirt, finding her clit instantly it is too much. She comes with a moan high in her throat, spasming against his chest, and suddenly Justin is out of the chair and through her orgasm he’s pushing her against the softness of the bed. She throws her legs around his back, and locks her ankles, both of them moaning loud enough to cover the sound of the bed squeaking with the power of his thrusts. He fucks her fast and hard, sending jolts of exhausted pleasure to the tips of her fingers and toes, making her hips buck against his as he comes, resting his forehead against her collarbone with a final moan.

“I love you,” he breathes against her neck, kissing his way from her collarbone to her lips, and she shivers.

A thief is never supposed to make a home anywhere. They should always be ready to pick up and leave, no regrets, no looking back. No permanent addresses, no pets, no creature comforts. It’s the trade thieves have to make, her dad used to say. It’s what they get after all their stealing, what they deserve. But when the last trace of Justin’s declaration – one that has been said many times before – leaves his lips, Olivia realizes she has broken this rule. And when he pulls out of her before quickly tucking her against his chest, their breaths rising and falling in sync instantly, she realizes – her home is Justin and there would be no leaving him.

Sometimes thoughts come in the middle of complete and utter chaos and they're impossible to stop. The high piercing wail of the cop cars behind them and the bright flashing of red lights do nothing to distract Olivia from the overwhelming question filtering through her brain. No, she has not changed her mind; she will not be leaving Justin, no matter what, but what about him? Would he leave her? It's clear now, by the searing pain in her leg and the blood pooling on her seat she'll only slow him down. And right now, that’s something they really can’t afford. Another round of bullets spray at their back windshield and Olivia and Justin duck low in their seats without losing sight of the road in front of them. Olivia takes a frantic glance at Justin, to make sure he’s okay, and as she cocks the tommy gun and turns her body out the window she wonders desperately where it all went wrong.

----

Earlier that morning Justin and Olivia find that it was true, there were no accurate descriptions of them from their last heist, but when she walks through the doors of the next bank in Mayfield, Kentucky with her hips swinging and heels clicking there’s no question who she is, and by then it’s too late.

Justin materializes, gun at the ready, and the room freezes when he pulls out the rope. He rounds up the people too slow to escape, binding their wrists together and then to each other, while Olivia approaches a bank teller. This time it’s a skinny young man with a nose too big for his face and pretty green eyes. She shakes their black leather bag in her fist once she rounds the counter.

“I’m sure you’ve read all about the drill by now, haven’t you?” She asks with a gentle tilt of her head and an arch of her eyebrow.

Justin laughs when the teller nods his head dumbly in response to Olivia, but when he leads her back to the vault Justin’s face hardens.

“WAIT!” He orders, and both Olivia and the teller stop. Olivia regarding him curiously while the color drains from the teller’s face.

With his free hand Justin wraps his fingers around the teller’s bicep, turning him around. Their faces are a breath apart, and even though they’re whispering Olivia can see the rest of the occupants have their eyes on them. He lets the muzzle of his gun rest thoughtlessly against the man’s chest not bothering to remove his finger from the trigger, and although he smiles, his eyes are like steel when he speaks.

“What’s your name?” He questions, as if they had just met on the street and he was preparing to ask him for the time.

“Arthur,” the teller responds, his voice cracking.

Justin smiles wider and Arthur visibly calms, Justin could charm his way through anything.

“Hi Arthur, I’m Robert,” he lies effortlessly, without a millisecond of hesitation.

“See that woman over there?” He asks as he gestures with his free hand over to Olivia.

She’s far enough away that she can’t hear what he’s saying, but the cold glint in his eyes mixed with the way his smile is slowly turning into a warning speak for themselves and Olivia doesn’t need to know.

“She’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Justin questions, but the teller only shakes in response.

“ANSWER ME!” Justin roars, pressing the nose of his gun harder into the Arthur’s chest.

“Ye-ye-yes,” he sputters, his eyes flicking over to Olivia who has one eye on the bank customers Justin tied up while she polishes her gun.

“Good answer!” Justin continues jovially, smacking the teller hard on the shoulder in agreement before his face returns to its warning glare. “But don’t let it fool you. Last time, when someone tried to be a hero, she broke their fucking nose with the butt of that pretty little gun she’s got there. I can promise you, though, if you try ANYTHING with her, you’ll be dealing with me. And I guarantee you’ll be leaving here with more than a broken nose. If you leave here at all. Understand?”

Arthur doesn’t need to be asked twice, he nods his head quickly and when Justin releases him with a shove he stumbles towards Olivia on trembling legs. Justin gives a cold laugh when she moves to the left to avoid having the man stagger into her. Their eyes lock for only a beat, silent and tender reassurance passing between them, before Olivia pulls back the hammer on her revolver and follows the teller back to the safe.

She returns from the vault unharmed, though it is clear the teller is still terrified by Justin’s promise. Justin and Olivia stride towards the exit, their bag of money slung over Justin’s shoulder and their arms linked as if they were an average couple leaving the bank. They’re almost out the door when a police officer makes his way into the building. The bank stills completely as the eyes of each patron watch as the check the officer had hoped to deposit slips from his fingers and floats to the ground. Seconds pass, and like a light switch has been turned on the officer fumbles for his gun, but it’s already too late. Olivia takes the butt of her pistol and smacks the officer in the temple, watching him as he crumbles to the ground.

“Don’t bother,” Olivia says, looking down her nose as they walk past, “we were just leaving.”

The number one rule of Justin and Olivia’s plan was to always keep a level head, especially while in the building. So when their feet hit the pavement outside, despite all their instincts telling them to run until they can’t anymore, they walk calmly into the crowd and make their way to the car. Just as they’re about to turn the corner at the end of the block two loud bangs ring through the air and it doesn’t take a genius to know they’re gun shots. Olivia gasps in shock, clutching her thigh while Justin grabs her hand and together they run the rest of the way to the car. They peel away from the curb with no hesitation, cutting off a car and almost hitting a pedestrian.

By the time they’re out of the city Justin is checking the rearview mirror almost compulsively, and at about half a mile out of the city it seems they’ve made it and luck has stayed on their side. But as soon as he lets the thought float through his mind two black cars appear, cresting the small hill behind them. Justin lets out a quiet, ‘shit’ and slams down on the accelerator. Olivia has been quiet in the car today, there was no whooping or cheering today, and as soon as she whips her head around to the back window her gun cocks and Justin knows they’re in for a hell of a ride. They’re able to distance themselves from the police cars, and finally, Justin is able to breathe a sigh of relief.

He breathes too soon. They’re speeding by an exit ramp when another police car screeches as it slams on its accelerator to head them off. Justin and Olivia have talked about what their plan was if something like this happened, but he knows they both hoped they would never have to rely on it. The cops are gaining on them and he takes a moment to face Olivia.

“Are you ready?” He asks, his eyes flicking from her to the road to the rearview mirror and back again.

Olivia nods, and Justin notices she seems to have lost all the color in her face.

“You sure?” He asks again, but before she can give him an answer the first pop pop pop of guns sound through the air, jolting them out of their conversation and gives Olivia no choice but to fight back.

The two cars are side by side now, and Olivia can see the whites of the policeman’s eyes. It’s the one from the bank and he looks just as terrified as she feels. He’s the only officer in his car and when Olivia takes a glance at the road in front of them she moves on instinct. There’s a barrier on the left and it feels like the world is moving in slow motion. She reaches for the steering wheel, pulling it to the right, forcing the police car to slam into the barrier, and the crunch of steel on steel rings loudly in her ears. The two other cars are back behind them now, having gained distance since the third black police car appeared. They’re riding close to Justin’s tail on the deserted interstate and no matter how hard he pushes on the gas no distance is being made. Olivia does what they had discussed, and reaches into the back seat for Justin’s gun and rolls down the window. She’s frightened, this is probably the most afraid she’s ever been, but it doesn’t stop her from aiming the gun or pulling the trigger. She shoots in bursts, the bullets hitting the headlights of one of the cars, and then the hood, but eventually they land where she wants them. The right front tire of one of the cars blows out, forcing it to spin out, coming to a crash in a ditch on the side of the freeway. One more to go.

Olivia slips back in the car and for the first time realizes how badly she’s been shot. She’s bleeding on the seat, but she doesn’t think Justin notices yet. Another round comes and a bullet wizzes through the car and out the windshield, missing Justin’s head by mere inches. Olivia hears him gasp and sees the damage as she reloads, taking a deep breath before leaving the relative safety of her seat.

Olivia’s torso is completely outside the car as she shoots, bullets raining on the hood of the last car. A man appears from the side of one of the police vehicles with a gun of his own that immediately hits the back passenger window, launching a spray of broken glass into the back seat and onto Olivia’s face and hair. Her leg has felt like someone is jabbing a molten pole through her leg but the new stinging from the scratches on her face make the pain in her leg recede. At the loss of their partners it is clear that the final police car is determined to bring Justin and Olivia down. She lifts the gun to aim towards the windows. In the first couple shots she breaks through a window and the wild spin of the car tells her she hit someone, but the car doesn’t stop. Another gunman comes from the side and Olivia has no choice but to duck in the car again. She pulls bits of glass from her hair frantically and she checks on Justin again. His knuckles are white and locked tightly on the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?” He yells over the roar of the engine and the wind whistling through the broken glass of their windows.

Olivia opens her mouth but for a moment her voice is lost. “I’m fine,” She gasps, once she finally manages to force her throat to make a sound. “But I can’t get a clean shot, every time I lean out they shoot at me. They’re too good of marksmen, I can’t risk it.”

Justin nods and holds steady on the accelerator, thinking. “Look!” He says, nodding towards the road in front of them. S-curves.

“This is perfect,” he starts, “their car won’t be able to handle the turns as well as ours, and when they’re on the outside loop they won’t have a clear shot at us. So when we get there that’s when you’ve got to shoot.”

Olivia cocks the gun in response and gives Justin a final look before she aims the gun at the last police car. Justin’s prediction is correct, the men can’t get a good shot while they’re on the outside curves, and though that’s good news, probably the best they’ve had today, it doesn’t change the fact that the police are still shooting and Justin and Olivia’s car can’t protect them forever. Olivia takes a deep breath and focuses her aim at the tires of the police car, hoping to only stop them from catching up. But her hands are shaking and as they take the curve the car fishtails, causing her to hit the windshield instead. The car slows immediately, and though she doesn’t know exactly what she hit, the bright red splash of blood on what’s left of the windshield tells her everything she needs to know and they’re free.

They drive for miles, following the sunset until they cross the Tennessee border. They’re panting like they’ve just run a marathon and Olivia checks behind them again, to make sure no one has followed them. Her hair is tangled and undone thanks to the wind from the broken windows and his tommy gun still clutched in a death grip between her fists.

Justin pulls off to the side of the road as soon as he finds a place their car won’t stand out. The engine shutters to a stop and for the first time since they waltzed into that bank this morning there’s silence. It feels like a million years ago, though, and when Justin notices Olivia she seems even paler. She’s looking forward into the willow tree they parked under, gnawing at her bottom lip.

“Close one,” Justin jokes, trying feebly to lighten the mood, though he knows it’s a little insulting to joke after what they’ve just done.

Olivia says nothing, only nods vaguely, still clutching the tommy gun against her chest like a lifesaver. She’s shaking from head to toe and Justin's never seen her like this.

“Olivia,” he says, prying the empty gun away from her fingers and tugging her into his lap, “Olivia, come here.”

Her breath hitches and she lets her forehead fall to his shoulder, shuttering exhales brush Justin’s collarbone and she’s shaking, violently. He runs his hands up and down her arms, shushing her as sobs rack her body. He’s never seen her look so frightened and it makes his heart stutter. Justin’s stomach drops, he didn’t see what happened to the cars but he can guess and it does nothing to calm his guilt. Olivia wraps her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Close, huh?” he asks, rubbing her back softly, trying to calm her while fighting his own guilt, bubbling from his chest like a volcano. It’s his fault she feels this way, it’s his fault she had to do these things. He should have made her drive, and let him do the shooting. He’s a better shot, anyway.

She’s cold and her fingers are clammy when they tug at his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers. Justin is shocked, but the warmth and weight of her body is welcomed after constant fear of the last few hours. He had heard about it before, but there truly is something about dire situations that make hormones rage.

Her lips taste salt water and she’s gasping into his mouth, half sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She keeps repeating it and he knows she’s not talking to him, but lets her say it anyway.

He opens his mouth to her, because it’s the only thing he can think of. He does his best to console her with the caress of his lips and the squeeze of his hands, but when his hands slide up her legs his left hand feels something sticky, and then something wet and something warm. He knows what it is before he sees his palm painted red, but he’s astonished Olivia didn’t say anything.

“You’ve been shot!” Justin exclaims, pushing her back so he can see her face and feeling sick again at the thought that she’s given so much of herself away today and he’s still fully whole. He removes his shirt, leaving his chest bare besides his thin cotton tee underneath, and quickly folds it into a thick strip of material. Gingerly, he wraps it around Olivia’s thigh and ties it tightly, hopefully stemming her blood loss, because he’s sure she’s already lost too much.

Olivia observes Justin as he works on her, the color still drained from his face, his brow furrowed in concern, his left palm stained with her blood. Her eyes well up, then, and it’s clear as day, written on his face that he’s panicked and she feels foolish to have thought he was any less devoted to her as she was to him. Her right hand finds its way to cup his face, running her thumb over his stubbled cheek, she kisses him on the lips, hard, deep, saying all the things she can’t handle thinking about right now.

“It’s just a through and through.” she sighs, leaning back against the steering wheel.

“It doesn’t matter!” he yells, holding her by her upper arms, more afraid than angry.

Olivia shrugged, and that small, simple movement leaves her feeling dizzy now that the adrenaline has begun to wear off and the pain in her thigh has progressed to total agony.

“I don’t know…not enough to be really worried” She drifts off, her head falling to his shoulder again, and Justin kicks himself for not noticing how clammy her forehead was when she first laid against his chest.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up, Liv.” Justin whispers almost whining, brushing back the hair stuck to her neck.

Olivia clutches Justin’s torso, whimpering slightly when Justin moves to set her back in the passenger seat, jostling her leg. Her father warned her about how quick a heist can take a turn for the worst, and to always, always be prepared for that. But with one last racking sob Olivia reflects that her father never had a chance to tell her what to do when that happened, and she's never missed him more than right now. “Where can we go, Justin? If we go to a hospital they’ll have to report it.”

Justin knew that, but there was a reason when they took highway 3 instead of the 269. He wanted to go to Tennessee for this very reason. There was a place he held in his back pocket, his trump card he hoped he’d never have to use. But now, with Olivia hurt Justin knew they had no other choice, no other place they could go. He leaned over to Olivia, whose head was resting against the passenger side window, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder before starting the engine once more and driving the familiar path back to his home.

 

The drive to Justin’s childhood home is quiet and tense. The roads are mostly deserted, but they don’t know how far news has spread of their escape from the bank in Kentucky. Olivia rests against Justin’s shoulder as he drives, her forehead is still cool and damp, but she’s awake and that’s all Justin can hope for. Headlights from a passing car illuminate the cab and Justin can feel Olivia’s entire body tense, and rightly so. There’s no way she could manage another car chase today, or ever, Justin thinks, remembering the way she shook and sobbed for more than an hour under that willow tree. 

They can’t keep driving for much longer with their car damaged like this. There are dents and almost ever window is just broken glass and Justin knows their car is too much of a give away to keep it. But with Olivia hurt he seriously doubts she could walk for more than half a mile without rest.

They’re on the back road to his house now, and briefly Justin considers the chance his parents have heard about his new…profession. Where will their loyalty lie? And for a split second, when he is most aware of the loveliness next to him, he wonders what his mom would have thought of Olivia in another time or place. But he’ll never know, not in this lifetime. He has no intention of making his parents aware of their visit. He couldn’t bare it. And with the time they’re making, if everything goes according to plan, they won’t have to see his parents at all.

“How’s your leg, Liv?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road but letting one hand off the wheel to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She sighs against him, nuzzling his neck, “It’s better, I think. The bleeding stopped, for the most part.”

Justin sighs in relief, though his shirt wrapped around her thigh is burgundy with her blood.

“Are you going to be able to tell me what to do to fix it?” He questions, a little nervous that he’ll be in charge of caring for her wound.

She laughs, soft and rich. “You’ve just got to clean and stitch it, I think you’ll be okay. Can you sew?”

It’s strange, almost insulting, to Justin that she has to ask, after all the things they’ve been through she should know by now, right? But as he answers on autopilot, that yes, he can sew, it dawns on him that whether or not he could sew would never been a point of interest for Olivia with the way their relationship has developed. And as Olivia half nods her head as her eyes flutter closed, Justin can’t help the faint sense of loss he feels when he realizes just how many little things he doesn’t know about her.

A quarter mile down the road from Justin’s house a bouncing ride and a jolting stop wakes Olivia and she lifts her head groggily. They’re parked off the road; tall grass and cattails are the only markers of the riverbank, hidden in the darkness.

“Are we here?” she asks, turning her head slowly from left to right in search of a house.

“No, Liv, not yet. We’ve got to get rid of the car, first.”

He’s been thinking about it for a while now, and it doesn’t make sense to keep the car anymore, and they can’t leave it parked in his driveway once they make it to his house if they expect it to stay a safe haven, and in the next few days everyone in the nation will know what their car looks like. Justin exits the car, jogging the distance to the passenger side door to help Olivia out. It’s better than they both expected when she puts her injured leg down and finds she can rest some weight on it.

“You can stand!” Justin exclaims, pleasantly surprised, and a little weight lifts off his chest.

Olivia nods, though still grips Justin’s bicep tightly. “I shouldn’t put too much pressure on it, though. It might start bleeding again.”

Justin presses a kiss to the top of her head and pushes a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “Hold tight,” he says and makes his way to the trunk of the car.

He pulls out three black duffle bags, each filled to the brim with new, green bills, and sets them in the damp grass at Olivia’s feet. His tommy gun seems to stare at him from the back seat, but something tells him he won’t be needing it anymore. He picks up Olivia’s father’s pistol, tucking it in the back of his pants before shifting their car into neutral and pushing until it moves on its own. Once it starts rolling it’s like an avalanche, gaining speed quickly as it rolls down the grassy hill. When it hits the surface it’s surprisingly quiet, only the subtle glub glub of water filling the coach until the car disappears under the Mississippi murk.

They walk the rest of the way to his house, Olivia’s arm around Justin’s shoulder, occasionally hopping, hobbling down the empty street. They only stop once, while Justin stashes two of the duffle bags in the brush somewhere, and carries the last one on his shoulder. By the time they make it to Justin’s house it’s well past midnight and the darkness around them is so deep the porch light seems more like a lighthouse. Together, they stand at the foot of the driveway for what feels like hours. For Justin, it’s a silent thank you to God that they’ve made it this far, that they’re finally at a safe place. For Olivia, she’s content just observing the home where her love grew into the man he’s become.

His house is a small, whitewashed rambler set far back on the property with a neat front yard and a seemingly endless back yard. On either side there are trees and not another house in sight. It’s modest and country and completely what Olivia thought Justin’s house would be. For Justin it seems strange to be bringing her home, as if he was taking her to meet his parents, not because they’ve got no where else to go and the woman he loves has a hole in her thigh.

They totter towards the kitchen door; the lock has always been a little flimsy and Justin knows with the right finesse opening it is simple. The door swings open, creaking like old homes do, but in this heightened sense of silence it sounds more like a bomb. The kitchen is deserted, thankfully, and Justin guides Olivia carefully to a seat at the kitchen table. He pulls a chair out, which grinds painfully loud against the wood of the floor. She sighs when she sits down, holding her wounded leg out straight.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Justin promises. "What exactly do I need?"

Olivia looks at her leg as she counts his materials off on her fingers. "rubbing alcohol, a needle and thread, bandages if you can find them, clean rags if you can't."

Justin nods, solemnly before he presses a kiss to the crown of her head and quietly exits the room in search of supplies.

Olivia’s eyes follow him as he leaves, but she's alone now and she takes her time observing where he grew up. There's a red teapot on the stove that looks old and loved, and a few dirty dishes in the sink. There are pictures on the wall, Justin in every one, smiling, laughing, hugging, loving, and Olivia feels like the people in those frames are another world away from where she and Justin are now. She sighs, wondering for the second time today if this life is what she really wants for herself.

Justin returns with what he's managed to scrounge up. There's rubbing alcohol and a sewing kit in his arms, but bandages are nowhere to be found. He sets the supplies down at her feet before opening a kitchen drawer and pulling a few rags out from it and filling a small bowl with warm water. He crouches in front of her, then, and slowly rolls up her dress, exposing more and more of her milky white flesh. She shudders when his knuckles graze the inside of her thigh as he inspects her injury, and Justin fights the urge to walk his fingers up to where her legs meet. His eyes lock with hers and he is surprised to find them a little dilated, his eyebrows raise and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she shrugs.

His dress shirt is hard to remove. The blood from the gunshot has long since dried and Olivia whimpers as he peels it away, especially as he reaches closer to her wound. Once Olivia is free of the shirt they're both finally able to inspect the damage. The shot is a through and through on the outside of her thigh, and luckily – beyond lucky – missed her femoral artery. Justin can see both the exit and entry wounds without lifting her thigh from where it was resting on the chair. Justin grabs a rag and dunks it in the small bowl of warm water he got from the sink and begins washing away the brownish-red dried blood from her thigh. Silence descends again, only the trickling of water sounding through the room. The hardest part was next, Justin knew. He took a clean rag and held it about an inch below where the bullet entered Olivia’s thigh. With his other hand he took the bottle of rubbing alcohol and drizzles a bit over her wound. Olivia hisses, jolting forward to grip onto Justin’s shoulders as he pours more.

It’s the worst feeling she’d ever had. Worse than the bullet itself. The rubbing alcohol lingers and reawakens the pain from the first shot all over again. But when the pain ebbs away, and the bright white spots in her vision disappear, her eyes focus on Justin. His face a pale, white sheet of worry, and he puts the alcohol down to dab the excess wetness from the entry wound.

He can’t handle seeing her like this, he thinks, and he especially hates to be the one causing her this pain. So he distracts her.

"I used to sit here and eat my breakfast." Justin remarks, almost randomly, folding the rag formulaically before positioning it under the exit wound and going to work on Olivia again.

He pours as he talks. "I would be wide awake so early on the weekends, before my mom and dad were even close to getting up, and I’d get so bored waiting for them. So I would creep out of my room and try to make myself breakfast.” Olivia gasps as he dabs the shot dry, but Justin continues his story in hushed whispers and consoling strokes on her unwounded thigh. “Most of the time I'd just have cereal or something easy, but one time I tried to fry myself an egg and almost burned the house down."

And he’s done, no more rubbing alcohol, and the worst is over.

Olivia stares at Justin, observing him in what seems like critical air before attempting to stifle her laughter with her fist. "doesn't seem like much has changed then, has it?" she asks.

"What?" Justin asks indignantly, "I can cook!" he half yells half whispers threading the needle and burning the tip with a lighter he pulls from his pocket.

Olivia's laughter continues as he starts to stitch, growing more and more hysterical each time she glances down at him.

For the first time since they left the bank in Kentucky, Justin's heart feels as light as it did when he first laid eyes on her back at their university. He’s chuckling to himself as he stitches when he feels her hands, which had still been resting on his shoulders squeeze roughly drawing his attention back to her face.

“Justin,” she whispers, her skin paler than it was before, like they’re back to square one again and she just got shot. She shakes her head and juts her chin behind him.

He turns quickly, expecting that the police have discovered their hide out, but instead he finds his mother, an old shotgun clutched in her hands and looking as if she’s seen a ghost.

Justin gasps when he sees her; this was not part of the plan. A million thoughts fly through his mind; there are guns on the counter and thousands of dollars stuffed in a bag by the kitchen door, but mostly, sheepishly, the thought that he finds he’s most worried about is the fact that his mother’s first sight of him after four years is in between the legs of a woman with her dress around her hips.

“Mom!” he gasps, surprised. And like a light has been switched on she drops the gun to the floor with a clatter and rushes towards him, hugging him like she hasn’t seen him in years. Because she hasn’t.  

Olivia watches on like the stranger to this house she is, watches as Justin’s mother cups his cheeks and looks at him in the way only a mother can, checking for scrapes or bruises, or better yet, bullet holes. It’s heartwarming and if Olivia had the time to wrack her brain, it’s something she has always wanted to see. But when Justin’s mother stops her fussing and sets her eyes onto Olivia she feels only one thing – nervousness. A small breeze brushes past her calves and Olivia realizes how unbecoming it must look, besides the obvious dishevelment of Olivia’s person, for her dress raised far, far too high to even pretend to be ladylike.

Justin watches his mom apprehensively, observing as her eyes dart from the two pistols resting on her kitchen counter to Olivia’s damaged thigh, to the large black duffle bag by the kitchen door, and then back to Olivia, only this time resting on her face. For a split second Justin thinks his mother may not be happy with what she’s put together in her brain, but when she rushes forward to Olivia he knows they’ll be okay.

“Goodness, Justin, what on earth?”

It’s not a question Justin feels like, or ever planned on explaining to his mother, and coupled with the stress he’s sure Olivia is feeling, the truth is the last thing on his mind.

His response tumbles from his mouth, swallowing words he doesn’t want to say, eventually stuttering out, “There was an accident, Mom.”

Lynn nods and steels herself as she begins sewing where Justin left off, ordering him from behind her back to go into the spare bathroom where she keeps an extra first aid kit.

Justin leaves and Olivia is left with his mom, who’s currently on her knees sewing a gun shot wound Olivia acquired from robbing a bank with her son. Justin never showed a picture of his family to Olivia, but it would be impossible to miss that this woman is his mother. Her eyes, nose, mouth, hair, they’re just like Justin’s and Olivia finds herself blinking back tears. It’s a terribly confusing moment; guilt, fierce, burning, guilt bubbles up Olivia’s stomach. She would have gotten along with his mother, she’s sure, and it’s beyond obvious she cares deeply for her son. Yet, Olivia knows this is the first and last time she’ll ever speak to his mother, the last time Justin will see his mother. And it’s her fault. 

Justin’s mom smiles kindly as she sews, her eyes lingering on the tears gathered in the corner of Olivia’s eyes when she speaks. “I know it must sting, I’m sorry, but I’m almost done. What’s your name, dear?” she asks, “That boy can be so rude sometimes, I’m Lynn.”

Olivia answers quietly, almost timid.

“So, how did you and Justin meet?” Lynn asks systematically cutting the string and starting on the next one.

Olivia is surprised, shocked even, that Lynn has no desire to question why they’ve shown up at her home at nearly two in the morning with only two pistols, a black, unspeakable duffle bag and the clothes on their back, looking like they were just hit by a brick wall. She supposes she’s been quiet for too long because Lynn is crouched still, though the stitches are done, looking expectantly at Olivia waiting for an answer.

“In college.” Olivia blurts, clumsily, “We met in college.”

“Mmm, that’s right,” Lynn concedes, “I remember hearing about you, once.”

Olivia’s throat goes dry, Justin had talked to his mom about her?

“About me.” Olivia questions, though it sounds more like a conformation.

“Yep, about you.” Lynn confirms casually as she washes the bowl out and tosses the used, bloodstained rags into the trash.

Olivia is about to ask Lynn what exactly Justin spoke to her about, but just as she gets the courage to Justin comes sweeping back into the kitchen. Lynn turns to him and smiles, nodding her head towards Olivia. “I’ll let you bandage her up.”

This is all very bizarre, Justin thinks. Two separate parts of his life converging, becoming one, even for a short time, is confusing and makes him feel unbalanced. Like when a river finally hits the sea and salt and fresh water mix together. He knows he’s been standing still too long, staring blankly into space, so he moves forward and crouches at Olivia’s feet.

“Are you feeling okay?” Justin asks, slowly wrapping her thigh in white, gauzy bandages.

Olivia nods, a little frightened to actually say anything, because all she really wants to know is why Justin mentioned her to his mother all those years ago.

Justin holds her gaze as he finishes dressing her wound, “You sure?”

She nods again, taking a deep shuddering breath. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Justin can relate to that. They’ve been awake for about twenty hours, but the early morning of yesterday feels nothing less than a million hours ago.

“You can sleep in the guest room,” Lynn interjects, busying herself with the coffee maker as she speaks.

“Come on,” Justin says, slipping her arm over his shoulders and helping her to the guest bedroom. As they limp past the kitchen Olivia’s eyes meet Lynn’s and she sighs a ‘thank you’ though she knows those words aren’t anywhere close to what she would need to say to fully express her gratitude.

The bedroom is cool and a little stuffy, like no one had been inside for a while. The walls are painted a loud, lively teal but when Justin helps Olivia to the bed it feels impossibly soft and even while sitting up Olivia fights to keep her eyes open.

“I like your house.” Olivia confesses quietly, as if even voicing the complement implies she wishes she could take it back, wishes that they weren’t bank robbers anymore, that they weren’t what they had made themselves to be. “And your mom,” Olivia continues, gazing up at Justin who is standing between her parted legs, “she’s lovely.”

Justin smiles in agreement running his fingers through her hair, over her crown and down her back. He doesn’t have to say anything else, Olivia can see the light in his eyes when she talks about his mom and she knows he agrees. “It’s so nice of her to let us stay…especially if she knew…” Olivia trails off as the memory of their car chase, still raw and unfiltered hangs in the air.

“Shh,” Justin hushes, “My mom is nice, but I can promise you she won’t be happy if you worry yourself over this and can’t get to sleep.”

He pulls back the comforter and slips Olivia’s heels off her feet and it takes the gentle kiss he places on her lips for her to realize he’s not getting in bed with her. She opens her mouth to ask him why, but as soon as her head hits the pillow she falls asleep.

Justin makes his way back out to kitchen to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and his mom sitting at the table, mug cupped between her palms. Their eyes meet and Justin realizes she knows everything. And really? He shouldn’t be so surprised.

Lynn doesn’t need someone to tell her what’s going on here. She heard for weeks through the gossip around town that there was a duo of bank robbers working their way down the eastern United States. It was only a matter of time they hit Tennessee. She read the stories. Of bloodthirsty, tough, coldblooded, and even the occasional romanticized versions of these robbers, a young couple with the world at their feet. Time went on and descriptions filtered through the newspapers. Descriptions, quotes, demeanor, Lynn followed it all. It only took four articles for her to know for sure – that this couple, this duo of bank robbers, were none other than her son and his girlfriend. She could have called the authorities, let them know whom they were facing, but she couldn’t do it. Twice she held the receiver to her ear, her fingers poised at the turn dial, but after two numbers she couldn’t do it. He was her son, after all. Her only son.

He strides towards to her, silent on his feet, avoiding every creaky floorboard as if he walked them only yesterday. Lynn hands him a cup of steaming black coffee as he sits across from her, facing the now open kitchen window just in case.

“Olivia was shot.” Lynn says, states – it’s not a question – and it was silly for Justin to think they wouldn’t talk about this.

“She was.” Justin answers, trying his best to speak to her like a man, and not her son.

“By a police officer.” Lynn says, with no hint of a questioning lilt in her voice.

Justin winces, knowing the less his mom finds out the better, but he can’t lie, so he just nods his head, avoiding her eyes as he takes a sip of coffee. It burns his tongue as it goes down.

Lynn makes a noise in her throat, like she’s trying to swallow what Justin has confirmed. She may have known what they were up to for weeks, but hearing it straight from her son is something she could never prepare for. It’s hard for her to form words but she wants to know more.

“You’re all over the TV, Justin,” Lynn adds, in a weird mix between grief and the natural reprimanding tone mothers so easily fall into, “They’ve been mentioning you since the bank in Ohio.”

This isn’t news to Justin, but it still makes him frown. It shouldn’t have come to such a surprise to him, he isn’t a child, but he really never considered the affect his actions would have on his mother. He watches as she shifts in her seat like she wants to say something but already knows the answer and understands it will only bring her pain.

“You won’t come back from this, will you?” Again, it’s like a statement that comes from Lynn, not a question.

She reaches across the table palm up and Justin can see the tears in her eyes when he grips her hand in both of his. He pulls her hand forward, pressing his cheek into her palm, begging God to let him remember this moment forever, and he shakes his head no.

Like a tidal wave, Lynn understands this is the last time she will see her son. His life now has two options, escape or death, and neither includes her. She starts to cry in earnest, then, wiping angrily at each tear as it slips down her face.

“Momma, don’t cry, it’ll be okay,” Justin begs, attempting to soothe her with his promise, though he’s not quite positive it will be.

The clock keeps ticking, minutes still pass, the sun continues to rise, but for Justin and his mother time stops. When Lynn’s tears have stopped flowing she squeezes Justin’s hand before releasing it and taking a long gulp of her coffee. She smiles, and Justin can tell it’s a little forced, but he can’t really expect anything better.

“Is Olivia asleep?” She asks, breaking the silence, changing the subject.

Justin nods, though the small smile on his face at the mention of her name is impossible to hide.

“She’s beautiful, Justin.” Lynn says, and even though she’s stern Justin sees the way she approves, the way that if this was any other situation she would be gushing about her.

Justin nods, agreeing, but watches as Lynn purses her lips as her eyes fall onto the guns laying untouched on the kitchen counter.

“Is that why you never brought her home? Why you never asked her?” Lynn asks, finally acknowledging the weapons.

“The day I was going to propose…well, she proposed a different idea before I got the chance. The next day we picked a bank, just a little one in some small Wisconsin town…and it was amazing.” Justin’s eyes flash, a focused, intense excitement brewing in them as he speaks, lifting his hands in the air, spreading his fingers wide, “Mom, imagine the most afraid, exhilarated, powerful you’ve ever felt, and then multiply it by ten. By 100. That’s how it felt. After the first one we knew – I knew – there would be more.”

Justin pauses, it was hard to explain why he didn’t propose to Olivia after that. He was never ashamed of Olivia, he never second-guessed whether or not he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but there was so much going on.

Lynn clears her throat again, staring hard at Justin, waiting for him to go on.

“And with more banks,” Justin continues, “came more danger, more risk…and I didn’t want to bring you guys into it.”

Lynn brushes invisible crumbs off the kitchen counter, seemingly wiping away remnants of their conversation. Justin understood loud and clear, no more bank talk. “When you called me that day, Justin, when you told me you were going to ask her to marry you, you sounded determined that it was what you wanted.”

“It was – it is.”

“You love her?”

“Of course I love her.”

“And this is what you want for your life with her?”

Justin hesitates. If someone were to ask him who wanted this more, who had the most stakes in this, it’d be Olivia. He isn’t saying he didn’t decide that this was a good idea, that they aren’t equal parts guilty. But their goal? Their reasons behind the robberies? Those are all for Olivia’s dad.

“Any life with her is what I want.” Justin answers fiercely, his words tumbling from his mouth before he can really process them. It startles him, the way he spoke so definitely about Olivia and the life they’ve created out of wielding guns and robbing banks.

“You won’t have a life if you try any more, Justin. I didn’t want to tell you before, with Olivia in the room, but you were on the news last night. They figured out Olivia’s whole name and they have an accurate picture, now.”

Flashes of their bank robbery in Cincinnati are all Justin can think about. How they wasted precious seconds talking to that little boy, how Olivia told him her real name. It’s the only way the police could have found any information on them, and it’s their own fault. His heart begins to pound, making his limbs feel numb, and he can’t hear anything but the rush of blood in his ears.

“Those cops that were chasing you tonight…” Lynn continues, and Justin finally understands just how much his mother knows about what has been going on – how much the rest of the country knows. “Justin, they’re dead,” she gasps out, as if just saying it physically hurts her. “They’re dead and police everywhere are outraged, they said they’re going to shoot to kill. Sweetheart, I’m begging you, if you want to live, if you want Olivia to live, if you want to stay together, don’t try any more, okay? Just get out while you can.”

Justin can hear the tears in her voice again, see them building in her eyes and he’s never felt more sorry. He grips her hand again, his head hanging down, avoiding her gaze and he feels his own eyes burning. Tears come, bubbling up with guilt and sorrow and a little fear.

Lynn rubs his hand soothingly, the way she used to when he was a child, but he can still hear her sniffling and guilt burns in his chest.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Lynn whispers, “You should get some rest, take a nap for a few hours. You should probably leave before your dad wakes up.”

Justin lifts his head, his nerves have calmed but his eyes are ringed red with exhaustion and remorse.

“What are you going to tell him?” Justin asks, sounding more like a child than he has in twenty years.

Lynn sighs, “I’m not sure…nothing, maybe. That someone stole our truck?”

Justin’s brows furrow, “Someone stole your truck? When?”

Lynn almost laughs then, this man, this fugitive, this bank robber, her son, can still manage to be so easily confused. “Oh, sometime this morning.”

Justin’s mouth opens, ready to ask another question but he shuts it just as quickly, finally understanding what his mother is saying.

“Momma, we can’t take your truck…” They’ve done enough, Justin thinks. They’ve caused enough suffering.

“How else do you think you’ll be able to get away?” Lynn asks, a little surprised at the lack of planning her son had when he showed up in her kitchen hours ago.

Justin says nothing. He had been so panicked about Olivia’s health he hadn’t considered how they were going to get away. Gratitude floods through him as flashes of how this could have ended if not for his mother’s generosity flicker behind his eyes.

“Go lay down, Justin.” Lynn says, falling so easily into her mothering role. “You’re going to need your rest.”

----

It’s well past six o’clock when Justin and Olivia pack what’s left of their things into the truck. Lynn stands on the front step, watching as Justin throws the small duffel bag she gave them filled with new clothes and extra ammunition into the back seat. Olivia is next to her, waiting patiently for Justin to finish.

She turns to Lynn, feeling much better with her leg bandaged and a few hours of restful sleep. “Thank you,” she says, though words won’t ever be able to express how much Lynn has done for her.

“Your son is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Olivia confesses, blurts even, and a rosy blush graces her cheeks at her own lack of tact.

Lynn chuckles and pulls Olivia into a hug, kissing her cheek sweetly before holding her out at arms length. “Me too, darling, me too.”

Olivia forces a watery smile as she wipes angrily at her tears, “I’m sorry it has to be this way. I never meant to take hi-”

Lynn shushes her and pulls her into another hug, tears filling her own eyes.

“I just want you to know that I won’t ever take him for granted,” Olivia whispers, her chin still tucked over Lynn’s shoulder.

“I believe you,” Lynn answers, giving Olivia a final squeeze.

“Come on, Liv,” Justin calls gently, holding the passenger side door open for her.

Once she’s settled in the car Justin closes the door and makes his way back to his mother for the final time.

“Momma,” He sighs, almost cries, and engulfing her into a tight hug.

Lynn hugs back, squeezing tight but they don’t have to say anything. They couldn’t if they tried.

“Okay,” Lynn gasps, holding Justin by the shoulders, eye level with him as she stands on the front step, “you need to go.”

Justin nods, looking at his feet. In a split second he pulls her into another bone crushing hug. “I love you.” He says, smelling the lavender scent in her hair he will always equate with his mother and home.

“I love you too, Justin.” She’s crying in earnest, now. Her left arm wrapped tightly around her middle, her right still around Justin’s shoulders. “But you’ve got to go!” She orders, patting his shoulder roughly, “Go!”

Justin walks to the truck, taking one last long look at his mother by the door and the house he once called home. They were leaving behind a lot today. Justin is almost positive this is the last time he’ll see his mother, the last time they’ll be in Tennessee. The car he and Olivia bought with the first bit of money they ever acquired was rusting somewhere deep in the Mississippi River and the duffel they carried to the house was still sitting by the kitchen door. He and Olivia had discussed it and it was the least they could do. Olivia worried it was almost insulting, but Justin had promised her his parents were practical people, and at least this way they could replace the truck.

The next bank they have planned is in Montgomery, Alabama and Justin wonders as he drives if he should explain to Olivia just how infamous they really are now. He glances at her, she looks better than last night, but nowhere near her normal self, and he can’t bare it. At least that’s what he tells himself as he pulls off to the side of the road to retrieve the two bags he stashed the night before. But when he climbs back into the cab and drapes his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into the middle seat so they’re pressed side by side, there is a more urgent question nagging at the back of his mind. An idea, a hope, a dream. As they make their way onto the southbound highway Justin ponders whether or not it’s worth trying the last two banks at all, and more importantly what exactly, would Olivia say if he gave her another option.

Eight banks. That’s how far they’ve come. Is that enough, or are they stubborn and reckless enough to try for the ninth and tenth? There are police everywhere when they do their drive through of Montgomery, Alabama and the bank in question appears almost impenetrable. There are police stationed at the door who seem more armed and dangerous than he and Olivia. Despite the gravity of their situation, Justin can’t help but laugh, after eight banks it seems the feds have finally made sense of the madness that was their bank pattern. Olivia shifts in the seat next to him with a groan and the laughter dies in his throat.

This is the result of their carelessness. They had been living like they couldn’t be destroyed, but the bullet wound in Olivia’s thigh is still burning and the old, blood stained bandages on the floorboard of his step father’s truck serve as a reminder of their mortality.

It was an awakening for Justin, he decides, taking a quick sidelong glance at Olivia and then down towards her tightly bandaged thigh.  There will be no more, he decides, he will not allow it. It was reckless for them to even try more than one in the first place, he thinks, remembering back to the panic and elation he felt as they sped away, leaving that lone bank in Wisconsin in their dust. A fleeting memory of the exhilaration they shared at getting away slips past his carefully built argument, but he pushes it away roughly. Still…what will Olivia think when he tells her of his decision? Will she want to complete her father’s plan? If this is meant to be her final goodbye, are eight banks really good enough an honor for her father’s plan? She hasn’t been the same since that day in Kentucky, that is for sure, and he doesn’t want to lose anymore of the best thing that’s ever happened to him, so the decision is his to make.

Their drive through is worse than they expect. Police are everywhere, and worse yet are the men in all black, watching, waiting around the police. They attempt discretion all the while gently resting their hands on their concealed weapons. Justin swallows and chances a glance at Olivia. She’s got that rash determination look on her face and that’s not good news.

“It’s the FBI, Olivia…” he pauses to check if her expression changes any way from the stony determination he saw earlier. It hasn’t.

“We’ve never dealt with them before Olivia…and frankly, I’m not so sure we can handle it.” He pauses again to check if she’s changed her mind, but she isn’t even looking at him, her face, her eyes, are locked on the bank building, her neck taut with the decision whether or not to go for it. Justin sees all this and understands…it’s no use.

The drive back to their hotel room is silent but efficient. Justin stops only once to pick up a newspaper. The news his mother told him of the police knowing Olivia’s name and appearance do nothing to quell his concerns, but it seems like this information hasn’t yet been nationally released to the public at least.

The hotel lobby is empty, and by the time they get into their room Olivia is limping again. She toes off her heels and falls into the armchair, sighing. One by one she pulls out the Bobbi pens in her hair. Justin watches as the curls tumble past her shoulders. He sighs in time with her own, remembering a time where a sigh from her was all it took to set his skin on fire. But now, there’s too much else to think about, too many things, guns, money, lists, and most importantly dead police officers between them. He can’t stand it.

“I’ve never seen that much security at a bank before,” Justin comments, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Olivia.

“No, nor have I,” Olivia agrees, but the way she says it has Justin weary.  He tries again to suggest what he has been hoping for since they left his house in Tennessee.

“Maybe, Liv, maybe we should skip this one. Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead.”

Worse than he expected, Olivia ignores his suggestion completely. “I know how to get in, it won’t be that difficult, come on Justin, they don’t even have an accurate description of us, when did you become such a coward?” She smiles teasingly with a roll of her eyes, leaning her head back to look at the ceiling and Justin’s had enough.

“They have your picture, Olivia! My mom told me she saw you once, on the news, they know your whole name, everything! When did you decide to be so reckless, Olivia? Are we just going to pretend what happened after the Kentucky job was just some sort of nightmare? Is what happened to you, to us, so worthless you’re willing to risk everything just to complete some stupid list?”

Olivia’s head snaps forward again and looks Justin dead in the eyes and he knows he said the wrong thing, but he can’t take it back. He looks away, out the window, to the ceiling, anywhere but her and continues.

“We can’t go back to a normal life, but please Olivia, we can escape. Forget the list and come with me. I know a guy in Florida who can get us out. Come with me, live the rest of your life with me. We can go somewhere quiet and warm – we can,” his eyes find hers and he nods, almost imperceptibly, seeing the look of uncertainty on her face, “– we can live by the beach.” He ends hopefully, a ghost of a smile on his face, but when his eyes find hers again, he knows it’s no use. Her expression is cold, hard, and unblinking. He’s never seen this expression directed at him and it’s unnerving.

“That list,” she spits, the word list comes out thick and southern, another sign she’s losing her cool, “is the only thing left I have of my father, Justin, and I made a promise I would finish it. With or without you.”

She stands up, tugging her shoes back on in a fury, ready to storm out their door, but before she makes it two steps Justin is on her, gripping her forearms like steel. “Okay,” he growls, “I’m in, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His lips press against hers in apology, warm, dry and consoling.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, kissing her, slipping his tongue past her lips, his hands down to hold her waist.

Her kisses in response are fiery and strong, fighting for dominance like every time they’ve fought. He kisses down her neck, laving at the hollow between her collarbones and Olivia’s fingers find Justin’s fly, unbuttoning and unzipping and pushing until his pants drop to his ankles. She smiles, smirks really, before pushing him backwards onto the bed. She reaches up her skirt, slipping her panties down her thighs, off her slim calves and straddles him, hiking up her skirt so it fans over them both, hiding the way her hips are rocking against his, the way his length feels as though it is pressing into her very core.

Olivia shifts and lets out a slow hiss, her leg isn’t fully healed but this feels too good to stop. She reaches under her skirt with both hands, leaning forward onto her knees as she shucks Justin’s briefs down just far enough to give her access to his cock. She watches his face as she strokes him. His lips part to suck a gasp of air, his eyelids flutter before he steals himself and looks into her eyes. She’s stroking him slowly, and just as his tongue darts out to lick his lips she slides him in, leaning forward to catch the gasp that slips out of his mouth with her own. She’s fully seated, he’s fully sheathed, but they’re completely still. Olivia can’t look away, his eyes are bright, his cheeks pink with lust, but at that moment all Olivia can think about is what his mom said to her in their kitchen, and what Justin said to her tonight.

She must have been staring for too long because Justin grunts softly and thrusts his hips forward. Olivia lets out a gasp and responds by rolling her hips forward and back, letting her palms fall forward with a muffled slap onto the comforter, resting by Justin’s ears. She keeps the pace, with help from Justin’s hands on her hips, and she can feel his heat burning through the material of her skirt. Her hips fall down on his, her palm sliding down to rest on his chest, on his stomach, as she rolls up and down, back and forward. She feels his abs clinch when she leans her body forward moving over him at a new angle and she can’t help but groan herself. His hands grip her ass, squeezing her through her skirt. While one hand moves to the small of her back, moving her so her breasts are pressed to his chest, this new angle is perfect, with each rock of her hips Olivia’s clit knocks against Justin’s pubic bone.

She has nowhere to look but his face, her hair forming a curtain around both of them and for a moment, their intimacy is staggering. Justin lifts his head off the bed, his nose brushing her cheek before his lips find hers. Their kiss is gentle, sweet, and so very different than the way this started Olivia finds herself frozen and Justin takes the lead. His hands leave her hips and cup her cheeks, cradling her head, his fingertips massaging her scalp as his lips make their way from her lips to her jaw and back again. He flips them without releasing her lips and he’s on top of her now. This new angle coupled with the added pressure on her leg cause a mingling of pleasure and pain but she won’t stop, she can’t. Their limbs are tangled now, legs and arms and hands and fingers, all wrapped together as one. Justin slows their pace, Olivia can hear each inhale and exhale of breath as Justin thrusts and it takes her a moment to realize her own gasps mixed in with his.

She can’t put a finger on why this feels so different, but tonight has a sense of finality and it leaves her feeling a little unsettled. But when Justin presses into her that final time they come together in a wave of shocks that cause her hips to twitch pleasantly minutes after and leave Justin panting to catch his breath. He rolls off of her, leaving her exposed to the cool air of the hotel room for only seconds before pulling her towards him, her head resting on his chest.

He asks her one final time, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She stiffens and turns her head away from him as soon as the question leaves his lips. His hands smooth down her arm trying to console her, to take back his question, but it’s too late. In her fury she gives him one word. “Yes.”

----

 “Pull over here,” she says, and they’re the first words she’s uttered since they got into the car this morning.

Justin looks as though he means to argue but thinks better of it.

The sidewalks feel foreign under his feet as he walks around the front of the car to help her out of the cab. Her leg is bothering her more this morning than the last and it’s not a good feeling, they’ve never tried anything when one of them was injured. Already, Justin can feel more pairs of eyes on him than ever before, and when Olivia’s feet hit the pavement and her eyes focus past his shoulder to the bank behind him he knows Olivia feels it too.

“What are we doing?” Justin hisses, already worrying that it was a mistake to placate Olivia so quickly last night. He should have fought harder. He should have made her listen.

Olivia’s already counting the number of men surrounding the bank entrance when she answers, “We need to know what kind of police we’re dealing with. If they’re city cops or federal officers.”

“Or both…” Justin mutters under his breath.

Olivia shakes off his doubt and uncertainty, telling herself that they can do this, that they have to do this. But even telling herself these things has her worried, it’s not the way it should be, it’s forced, the entire thing. There’s no turning back now, though, so she takes Justin’s arm and they start on their way to the bank. It takes two steps for both of them to realize something is very, very wrong. Olivia watches as a man in a suit near the front door says something short and clipped to the man next to him and he quickly makes his way into the bank. Justin sees four police officers hurrying on their way towards the bank from the opposite side of the street and they know it’s time to go.

“We’re leaving.” He says, his grip on her arm like iron.

Olivia says nothing but nods, and together they turn around. They’re 100 feet from their car when they hear the man in the suit yell and the clatter of feet on the pavement. Justin grabs her hand and starts to run. They sprint, after only three strides Olivia screams. He whips his head around, thinking the worst, and sees the bloom of deep red from underneath her skirt. Her thigh has started bleeding again.

“Come on, I’ve got you.” Justin says, throwing her arm over his shoulder and hobbling towards their car.

“Leave me!” Olivia yells, “we won’t both make it at this rate. Go!”

Justin looks back and the police are nearly there, a few of them have their hands on their holsters, ready to draw their guns if need be. He presses his lips to hers roughly, her hands cup his cheeks, the back of his neck, and they both know they’ve been still for too long.

Justin gives her one last look, memorizing her features before he whispers, “I’ll come back for you. I’m coming back for you, I swear it.” The ferocity, anger, and determination under his declaration make Olivia feel the safest she’s ever felt.

Olivia gives a miniscule nod of her head, angry with herself for being so stupid, so stubborn, and with Justin for being so easily persuaded. “I’m sorry,” she whispers before pushing him to his feet. He runs without looking back and Olivia fights the sting of abandonment, telling herself he will come back, he swore he’d come back.

The smell of gunpowder and the heavy pop of handguns cut through her daze, bringing her back to the present. The bullets ping off metal and brick and glass, nothing makes that haunting sound of a bullet entering flesh. The blood from her thigh is flowing freely now, pooling around her, making her lightheaded but unconcerned. At the sight of Justin reaching their pick up and speeding away Olivia is elated. She laughs and laughs, her hands falling behind her back, elbows locked to support herself. Olivia hears the feet behind her come to a stop and the shiny, black leather of four sets of police shoes are the last thing she sees before the shooting pain in her temple and everything going dark.

His thoughts come to him in broken flashes, bits and pieces of ideas and plans, so Justin does the only thing that makes sense and keeps driving until the border of Mississippi appears like a beacon. Olivia’s home state. Olivia. And then the gravity of what he’s done comes back to him in wave after wave of shame and anger. It was a promise they made in the beginning, sworn with lips and skin and blood. They made it together and it was never supposed to be broken. They were never supposed to split up, no matter what. If they go down, they go down together. They were Bonnie and Clyde’s second coming, everything they did they did together. It’s been four hours since Justin sped away from that bank in Montgomery, and still, all he hears are the ping of bullets ricocheting off everything around him and the hoarse order Olivia gave him to leave. Justin almost smiles, he really never could say no to her. But he made another promise as he left, that he would get her back, and this one, he knows, is unbreakable.

 

It’s too risky to get a room somewhere, he decides, they clearly misjudged the feds determination to catch them, considering how many officers were at the bank. How did they know that was the next bank on their list? Did they even know at all? If the feds have figured out their list, it means there was an informer, and that would be detrimental to any escape plan he and Olivia could ever come up with. In the past, she and Justin had been careless and thought themselves invincible; it was easy to feel that way, heist after heist of flawless robberies and bags and bags of fresh new twenties. But luck always runs out, and before he does anything else, Justin has to make sure the police can’t recognize his car.

 

It’s a reckless move, there’s no way of knowing exactly what information the feds have gathered, and just briefly Justin imagines how easy it would be to get caught. No more fighting, no more running, this ordeal, these jobs would be over, and after everything that’s happened so far, Justin is exhausted to the bone. The idea of being captured is fleeting at best, there would be no happy ending for him and Olivia if he gave up now, and Justin is determined to give Olivia just that.

 

He drives until he comes across a bank large enough to be a worthwhile target and for the first time in what feels like months discovers good news. This bank, whatever its name is, in whichever town Justin finds himself is just as watched as the one they tried to hit in Montgomery. Which means two things, one, the FBI have no absolute knowledge on which banks Justin and Olivia are targeting, and two, judging by how close he is to this bank, Justin knows they aren’t 100% sure on his vehicle, either.

 

He presses his palms tight against his eyes, blinking away his worries. It’s almost too much to handle. He can feel weight fall from his shoulders at each new discovery, and for the first time since he left Olivia, Justin legitimately believes there’s hope for them to make it out of this alive. His palms come away from his eyes as a woman across the street laughs. Her laugh is merry, light, and a little mischievous, it’s so close to Olivia’s Justin can’t help but stare. He shakes his head, of course it’s not her, it was ridiculous to even think it. Justin rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes again, to shake the ringing laugh from his head and as he pulls his hands from his face he’s shocked to find them wet. They’re tears of relief he knows, but some how it doesn’t make him feel better. And it shouldn’t, Justin tells himself, picturing Olivia trapped in a cell with nothing to comfort her but the promise he made her on that sidewalk.  

 

It would be impossible for Justin to get a hotel room today in this tiny little town, but the longer he stays in this truck the more exposed he feels. He pulls into a grocery store parking lot crowded enough to blend in, but empty enough that his continual presence won’t be noticed. Justin can feel every car that drives by, every person coming to and from the store burn a hole into the back of his head. Justin knows he can’t keep this truck; half of being inconspicuous, Olivia always said, was believing yourself that no one could find you anyway. She’s everywhere, Justin thinks, staring at the empty seat to his right. It’s taken almost all he has not to completely panic at their separation, and with a quick crack of his knuckles and a run of his fingers over his hair, Justin decides to take this one step at a time.

 

He pulls out of the parking lot and follows the road until he can't go straight anymore. It's a dead end, a small white farmhouse to his left and to the right, a large, open pasture that reminds him simultaneously of his own home and the dairy farm he and Olivia parked by after their first heist in Wisconsin. A few cows are milling about through grass, and Justin sees the sparkle of a pond on the horizon. There's a grey truck in the driveway with its windows rolled down and Justin thanks god for little mercies. The truck is almost identical to Justin’s, except for its color, and it seriously can’t be more perfect. He knows he can’t leave his truck here, it'd be too obvious to the authorities, so as easily as he pushed their original car into the murky Mississippi, Justin drives back down the road until he comes across the empty lot he passed before. It’s easier than he expects to tuck his truck, the last remaining physical tie he has with his family, away into the tall grasses of the empty lot. But Justin supposes once you’ve left your life behind once, it couldn’t possibly be any harder to do it a second time.

 

The walk back is long and quiet, the straps of the heavy black duffle bags cut into his palm as he walks and Justin finds it perfectly fitting. All this money has done for a while now is cause him pain.

 

The white farmhouse looks unchanged once he makes it back, the truck windows are still open, the front door to the house is still closed tight. The crackling of the gravel driveway seems to echo across the field and Justin feels his body tensing with each step. As quick as he can he tosses the duffle bags into the truck bed and hoists himself through the window. Jumping the car is easy, Justin rips at the plastic covering hiding the wires and in seconds he’s backing out of the driveway and back onto the open road.

 

Sleep comes slow and intermittent, and resting in the cab of the new truck does nothing to help quell the concerns of being discovered. How does he get Olivia back? The thought plagues him throughout the night, but not once does he come up with a possible solution. Night melts into dawn at an unnerving speed, and when the sun appears over the horizon Justin decides to head back to Montgomery. He may not have a plan yet, but sitting in this truck won’t help get Olivia back in the slightest. And besides, Justin had always been fantastic at thinking on his feet.  

 

By the time he needs to stop for gas, Justin is surprised to feel a little bit better about the situation, he still has no concrete idea, but just being physically closer to Olivia calms his fear and he can feel in his bones that getting her back is completely possible. As he walks back to the truck from the general store where he paid, Justin watches horror struck as a cop from Montgomery, Alabama pulls into the gas station. Justin keeps his head down, walking the long way around the cop car to his truck. He debates leaving right away, but he can’t get much farther without filling up, and he’s not sure where the next gas station will be, so with a deep breath and one eye glued to the officer Justin shoves the nozzle into his truck and says a prayer under his breath.

 

There are too many risk factors here, too many variables. Justin can’t be sure if the truck has been reported as stolen yet, or if his old truck has been found. Justin’s eyes watch as the police officer goes about his business, wiping off the windshield, pumping gas, and as Justin’s nozzle clicks signaling to his car is fully filled, an idea worms its way into his head.

 

He drives with purpose towards Montgomery, never happier that he took a small, two-lane highway instead of the main thoroughfare. About seven miles past the gas station he pulls off to the side of the road, turns on his hazards and lifts his hood. So many things could happen to make this the dumbest idea in history, to destroy any and all hope he has at rescuing Olivia, but he has no choice and no other ideas. It’s a gamble, Justin knows, but he and Olivia are built on gambles, and Justin hopes with a wistful smile, it will pay off. This is it, all or nothing. And now, he waits.    

 

----

 

Jesse Parker was new on the force, so new that his fellow officers were still doing a little bit of hazing. He was prone from the beginning to grand illusions of heroics, where he would save the damsel in distress, catch the bad guy and be rewarded for it. It was annoying to the rest of the force, but Jesse found ways to keep them off his back. For the third time this week he had been sent out here, to the middle of nowhere to do some kind of woman-errand that their wives should have taken care of. He was a little frustrated, but yesterday he was allowed to be a part of the group who caught one half of the bank-robbing duo from Chicago that the news had been calling the new Bonnie and Clyde. And that seething, furious look on her face when they booked her had left an impression on him, because wasn’t that law enforcement at its greatest?

 

“Lesson number one, Parker,” Holbrook said after he slammed the woman’s cell door shut, “A woman will always break, eventually. Especially women who get left behind by their men.”

 

She did break, Holbrook didn’t tell a lie. Hours after they shut the doors, late into the night when she thought no one was there anymore Jesse heard her crying. Miserable, shuddering sobs that echoed through the concrete hallways of the jailhouse. It was haunting, but just. At least that’s what he told himself.

 

The drive back to Montgomery was always boring, nothing on either side of the road but wheat, orchards, and the occasional cows. So it was easy for Jesse to jump at the opportunity to help a young man stranded on the side of the road, miles away from any sort of town. The young man’s clothes were dirty, he must have been stuck there for a while, Jesse thought, and as he pulled up behind the broken down truck he could already feel the claps on his back from the guys back at the station. They would be so amazed, Jesse knew, how he helped out a man on the side of the road and drove him all the way back to Montgomery. How he would have been stranded over night if Jesse Parker: Police Officer hadn’t been there to save him. As he stepped from his patrol car Jesse thought the man by the truck seemed somehow familiar, but more interested in how he was going to help, and how he was going to be rewarded, Jesse ignored the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

 

“What seems to be the problem here?” Jesse asked with his hands on his belt, the way he saw Holbrook do it on one of his ride-alongs.

 

“I’m not really sure, officer,” the man said, his accent thick and syrupy, the kind you can’t find anywhere but the country. “I’m thinkin’ my transmission’s got somethin’ to do with it.”

 

“Hmm, well how about we have a look,” Jesse said confidently, not only was he a very, very helpful police officer, but he was also a skilled auto mechanic. It was a little strange, however, that Jesse found nothing wrong at all with the truck upon his first look. All the belts seemed to be in perfect condition, there was enough oil, enough antifreeze, things weren’t adding up.

 

“How did you say the truck broke down?” Jesse questioned, standing up again, moving to look in the bed of the truck.

 

The man stepped quickly from leaning against the driver’s side door to block Jesse’s path, smiling sheepishly but standing much too close for comfort. Jesse took a step back.

 

“You know, I’m not too sure,” the man answered, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe you missed something?”

 

Was it just Jesse or had the man’s accent almost disappeared?

 

The man looked so familiar to him. Was he famous? No, no, he couldn’t be, not in this little town in the middle of nowhere.  Again, he shook off that peculiar feeling like he was forgetting something and followed the man’s suggestion to take a second look.

 

In the middle of checking the coolant again Jesse felt a tingling of recognition as he remembered why this man’s face seemed so familiar. He was the second half. It was his woman they brought to that jail cell last night, and suddenly, feeling anxiety creep up his spine Jesse wondered if this was the right profession for him, after all. He took a quick glance at the man standing in front of him and found the man’s eyes already locked with his own. He had been watching Jesse, too. His gun was in his holster resting against his ribs, its weight had never been more welcomed. With a deep breath Jesse prepared himself for the attack. He was fast, at least, he told himself. In high school his friends had always called him a gunslinger. He could take this guy down, no problem, and for a moment to calm himself he imagined the look on Holbrook’s face when he brought him the second half of their bank robbers, hog tied in the back of his cruiser. It was the image of Holbrook’s surprised but proud face that settled it. Jesse had to bring this guy down. Now.

 

----

 

Justin watches the officer as he looks for a second time into the hood of the truck. He’s such a sad police officer. He can’t be older than thirty-five and already his hairline is receding, and Justin shakes his head when the officer’s belly bulges over the hood of the truck and presses against the engine. At the sound of tires on pavement draws Justin’s eyes leave the truck for just a moment and his body draws tight like a bow string as he watches a car drive past them without a second glance. He feels his muscles relax as the car disappears over the hill and Justin turns back to the officer.

 

Twice now, the officer has looked at Justin with an inkling of remembrance, but just as quick as it comes, it’s gone again. He must know, Justin thinks, if he’s from Montgomery, about the woman in their jail half responsible for all those terrible bank robberies.

 

“So, you’re from Montgomery, huh?” Justin starts, knowing he’s walking on dangerous territory. “Were you there when they caught those bank robbers?”

 

The officer is busy checking the car when he answers and doesn’t bother lifting his head, “We didn’t get them both, the man is still out there. The last thing we heard was his car was spotted heading wes-”

 

His hand is on the coolant nozzle when the slow bloom of recognition spreads across his face. His eyes flick to Justin’s and Justin’s palms start to sweat. It’s almost time, he tells himself, the tips of his fingers itching to curl around the smooth, cool handle of Olivia’s father’s pistol. For minutes, hours it seems, they both pretend as though nothing is wrong. Justin moves, taking a few steps forward at a time until he’s right next to the officer in front of the hood.

 

“Did you find anythin’ officer?” Justin asks.

 

Within seconds the police officer acts. It’s like slow motion, Justin watches as he reaches for his gun in a flash of manic determination, and without missing a beat, as Justin slams his face into the hood of the truck, he almost feels sorry for the guy.

 

Officer Parker, Justin learns after reading his badge, wears about the same size pants as he does, they’re a little big around the waist but it works perfectly as a place to hide Olivia’s gun. Justin straightens his tie as he checks the bed of the truck one last time where he’s left officer Parker. Justin is about to grab the second duffle bag from the bed when he notices the gagged and bound officer’s has woken up. He doesn’t struggle, surprisingly, but his eyes catch Justin’s and they’re open, frantic, and wide with terror.

 

“Don’t worry,” Justin says, almost meaning it, throwing a tarp over officer Parker. “Someone will find you,” he turns his back and makes his way to the police cruiser, “…eventually.”