1930s Chicago. Notorious gangster Tom "Tommy Gun" Holland has been storming his way through Cook County, robbing banks and breaking hearts. One day you find yourself in the wrong place, at the wrong time when he makes a hit on your bank. There's...
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"Let's go get into some trouble," Tommy said, eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other between your legs. You continued to nibble on his neck as he cruised down the long and winding lane from Nicola's house.
"I've got some trouble you can get into, Handsome," you purred, squeezing his fondling hand with your thighs. He dug his fingertips into your flesh.
"Dollface, you're the kind of trouble any man would-"
SKKKKRT!!
The car came to a screeching halt. The engine in the old girl clanked and whined as as it came to a stop. You gasped in surprise and frantically brushed your hair out of your face to see what caused such an abrupt change in mood.
"Oh no...," you whispered.
Leaning against his police vehicle, casually and unconcerned, stood Harrison. Officer Oz. Haz, Tommy called him.
He was eating an apple, one arm crossed under the other. He was parked just under the maples, out of sight, until you turned that last corner of the lane.
Tommy just gripped the wheel and stared, frozen with fear. Fear, though? You ain't never seen Handsome afraid of anything or anyone for that matter.
"Tommy," you whispered, shaking his thigh. "Don't stop, remember dont stop."
But he didn't move, just stared. His grip relaxed on the wheel. His shoulders slumped some.
Harrison finished his apple and tossed the core in the tall grass. He brushed his hands together, looking at Tommy through the window.
"Luckies," he called. Tommy didn't answer. Harrison wandered over to the driver side window. Tommy's eyes watched him, narrowed with precision.
Harrison bent down. His face appeared in the frame. He glanced over at you then back at Tommy.
"Luckies," he said again, "You know, I never did like your smoking. It winds you, you know. I could always run faster than you. You ended up in a fit of coughing every damn time," he said with a nostalgic chuckle.
You looked at Tommy, waiting for a reaction, some response. He turned back to stare straight ahead. His jaw clenched tightly, forcing that perfect point to protrude. His ears had gone red. You couldn't tell if it was from humility or rage.
"Luckies," Harrison sighed, "the brand of smokes Tom 'Tommy Gun' Holland smokes...but not Nikki Holland. No, she's a Camels girl. You should have been more careful while using her ashtray."
Tommy slowly let go of the wheel. He leaned back in his seat and finally looked at Harrison.
Your pulse thumped up in your ears. Something so silly as a cigarette butt tipped him off. You both got too comfortable. Now you see why he's always on edge, why he never relaxes. Relaxing makes you careless and careless gets you in trouble.
They stared at each other for five heartbeats. You were counting.
Then Harrison hung his head for a second. You smiled to yourself. Tommy won that round. Sure, copper here may have a badge and a gun and law enforcement on his side, but he ain't no match for those burning brown eyes. The devil himself would beg for mercy beneath those unsettling orbs.
Harrison looked back up. His face seemed to soften, although to be honest, it didn't look all that tough to begin with. Mostly just for show, you supposed.
"You know I've got to call you in, Tommy," Harrison said softly and regretfully.
Tommy nodded stiffly.
"I know," he said with a gruff. You looked at him and without realizing it, muttered , "No." His eyes shot over to you then back at Harrison.
Harrison glanced over at you. He tipped his hat at you and gave you a sly smile. You frowned at him and clutched Tommy's arm.
"We need to go," you whispered but your tone was desperate.
"She's right, you know," Harrison said with a little shake of his head, "Dames are always right, aren't they?"
Tommy smirked and glanced over at you.
"Yeah, but they never know when to shut up," he said with a slight grin. What was happening here? Were they actually catching up?
"Tommy, you need to leave Indiana. You need to get as far away from here as you can and you can't ever come back. Is that clear?" Harrison asked. Tommy licked his lips and placed his hand on the stick shift.
"I haven't killed anyone, Haz," Tommy said suddenly, turning to him. "Don't believe what the papers say."
Harrison placed his hands on his hips and sighed. It was a fretful sigh, one filled with conflict and remorse.
"I know why you're doing this, Tommy. If I didn't, then I would have nabbed you long ago," Harrison said.
"Give us a head start, " Tommy offered, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "Give us a head start then you'll never see me again."
"Three minutes," Harrison agreed with a meaningful look, then he sauntered back over to his vehicle. He reached in for the radio and looked at his watch.
"Tommy," you urged, shaking his arm. Tommy remained stiff, eyes on Harrison. He seemed lost in a memory, and unable to shake it.
"Tommy!" you said with more demand. He still didn't respond. You bit your lip and took a deep breath. Someone needed to get you out of trouble.
You stomped your foot down over his, slamming the accelerator pedal and causing the car to lurch with speed. The vehicle threw itself forward and raced down the road. Harrison stood there in the rearview mirror, radio in hand and clouded in dust with an aw shucks look on his face.
Tommy seemed to come to mid way and straightened up in his seat at attention. Sweat had beaded on his brow and upper lip. He licked it away and leaned closer to the wheel, focusing on the road.
You stared at him intently and uninterrupted. He wasn't going to go on an try to ignore you now, or ever again. Your stare slowly wore him down, stripping him, peeling away the ego and stubbornness that made your handsome so devil so complicated.
Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.
"What, Di? For fucks sake?!" he growled.
"He interrupted us," you said with a seductive smile.
"What?!" Tommy asked exasperated. His eyes darted from the road to your pursed lips. You scooted closer and fondled his trousers.
"I was about to get into some trouble," you said with a taunting tilt of your head. You unzipped his pants and reached a hand inside.
"Bloody hell, Di," he muttered shifting in his seat, but made no attempt to stop you. You leaned over and gave a teasing lick across the head of his wonderful weapon.
"Hell? Oh no, Handsome. I'm about to take you to heaven."
