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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**This just in: Notorious bank robbers, Tommy Gun and Dollface Di Holland, have been spotted in Logan County. The couple have been on the run from police for months now, after a series of robberies throughout the Midwest. They are considered armed and very dangerous. People are strongly urged to use caution. Do not apprehend but contact your local sheriff immediately. I repeat, do not apprehend**
Tommy switched off the radio and frowned.
"Very dangerous," he grumbled sarcastically.
"Well you did clock that poor teller over the head with your gun," you offered.
"He called you a 'whore'," Tommy reasoned, his eyes grew darker as he recalled the incident. "Nobody calls my wife a 'whore'."
Since your spur of the moment ceremony, you two wasted no time getting back to the thrill of thieving. You made your way across the southernmost part of the state, hitting up banks and dispersing funds throughout the townships. Tommy seemed in no hurry to get back up to Chicago. The heat that followed you two grew hotter every day. The first time you heard your name mentioned on the radio you reveled in delight.
"Tommy, I'm famous!!" you squealed, turning the volume up to its loudest. Tommy watched you amused as you stretched across the motel bed and took in every sordid detail about the terrifying Dollface Di.
"I think you mean 'infamous'," he smirked at you, arms crossed while leaning against the doorframe. His eyes drifted along your spreads legs with devilish glint.
"Tomayto, tomahto," you shrugged with a sultry smile before pulling him on top of you.
With each job, you two became more in sync. It was like a choreographed dance of guns, bags, threats and intimidations. Each and every time, you ended your crime with a prayer for the wicked money-makers. Tommy followed with a chiding lecture about man's greed and the meek inheriting the earth. And each and every time, the flutter of the thrill led you into each other's arms, drunk on the danger and consumed by your love.
It wasn't until you entered Logan County that the heat seemed to get to Tommy. Just under 200 miles from Chicago, you felt the distance closing in. To what, you weren't quite sure. Tommy alluded to the "big one" from time to time, but whenever you pressed him about it, he shut down and became a right old bear.
"That car's been following us since Lincoln," Tommy said with a clenched jaw. His eyes darted from the mirror to the road with that shine of paranoia that you've grown accustomed to. He often thought every car was following you. His agitation would become unbearable until finally they'd disappear onto some other long, dusty highway. Still, you knew the routine.
You grabbed your gun from your purse and cocked it before Tommy even ordered you to.
"I'm sure it's nothing," you said dismissively. It always ended being nothing, but Tommy's teachings put emphasis on anticipating the worst and always being prepared to defend yourself. All it took was one slip and you both would end up in the big house, or worse, dead.
