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The shriek of alarms was a sweet symphony to Jacky’s ears, second only to the guttural roar of her drill boring through the last layer of reinforced permarock. She burst from the dusty hole in her cell wall into the blazing Starr Park sun, flipping a double bird to the watchtower as she sprinted. The ground vibrated, not from her drill, but from the approach of something much, much bigger.
A behemoth of a family van, painted a garish shade of desert sunset orange and pockmarked with laser burns, careened around a giant cactus, kicking up a rooster tail of red dust. The driver’s side door flew open before it even skidded to a halt.
“Get in, you magnificent, filthy bitch!” Shelly yelled over the engine’s rumble, her grin a flash of white against her tanned skin and dark hair.
Jacky didn’t need telling twice. She launched herself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut just as Shelly stomped on the accelerator. The van fishtailed, its oversized tires finding purchase in the sand, and rocketed away from the Ranger Ranch prison compound.
“Took ya long enough!” Jacky gasped, pulling off her heavy drill helmet and shaking out her short, sweat-matted hair. “I was aboutta' start tunneling straight to the Earth’s core for a goddamn drink.”
“Colt was preoccupied,” Shelly said, her dark eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. A tiny figure in a ranger’s uniform was just now stumbling out of the main building. “I think he was trying to get his hair to do that perfect, stupid little curl over his eye. We’ve got at least a five-minute head start.”
“Five minutes? That vain sonuvabitch. Serves him right.” Jacky leaned over the center console and smashed her lips against Shelly’s. It was a victory kiss, desperate and hungry, tasting of gunpowder, dust, and the lingering ozone static of Jacky’s drill. Shelly kissed back just as hard, one hand gripping the wheel, the other tangling in Jacky’s hair, pulling her closer. They only broke apart when the van nearly took out a particularly spiky-looking rock formation.
“Okay, okay, focus on driving, hot stuff,” Jacky breathed, her forehead pressed against Shelly’s.
Shelly just laughed, a low, throaty sound. She expertly navigated the behemoth vehicle through the treacherous canyon landscape, the huge cacti and sandy cliffs providing perfect cover. Most getaway drivers would opt for something sleek and fast. Their family opted for something that could fit twenty adults, a few kids, a TV and miniature kitchen and bathroom, a whole lotta spate stiff like beach gear and suitcases strewn everywhere, and enough stolen loot to fund a small galactic conquest in the name of Dark Lord Spike. It wan't convenient in the traditional sense, but it was their home on wheels.
After a few more minutes of breakneck driving that would've literally burnt the rubber off the tires if they drove even slightly faster, Shelly veered off the makeshift path, pulling the van into a dusty alcove carved between two towering mesas. She killed the engine, and the sudden silence was deafening, broken only by their heavy breathing. The adrenaline from the chase still thrummed in their veins, a live wire of nervous energy that was quickly transmuting into something else entirely. Something hotter.
“Well,” Jacky said, her voice a low growl. “We’re safe for a bit.”
“For a bit,” Shelly agreed, her gaze dropping to Jacky’s lips.
The tension snapped. Jacky was on her in an instant, clambering over the console and into Shelly’s lap, straddling her in the driver’s seat. Their mouths met again, slower this time, a deep, searching kiss that spoke of relief and a bone-deep love that had weathered countless shootouts, heists, and prison breaks.
“God, I missed you,” Shelly murmured against her mouth, her hands already working at the complex buckles and plates of Jacky’s armored suit. “And This thing's a fucking nightmare.”
“Tell me about it,” Jacky grumbled, trying to help. “Whoever the fuck designed this multi-plated piece o' shit is an absolute moron who’s never tried to get laid in a hurry.”
Shelly paused, a playful smile touching her lips. “Stormy designed it, mi amor. In a week. With blood, sweat, and pure love. She wanted to show off to her engineering class, and us, remember?”
Jacky froze. “Oh... Uh... Well... It’s… it’s a masterpiece of defensive engineering! A testament to our brilliant eldest's prodigious talent! Still a pain in the ass to get off, though.. B-but it's the thought that counts!”
Shelly chuckled, her fingers finding the final release latch. The chest piece came away with a heavy clank. She helped Jacky shrug out of the rest of the articulated plating, letting the pieces fall unceremoniously to the van’s floor. Underneath, Jacky wore a simple, grime-stained tank top and a pair of sturdy work pants.
It was Shelly’s turn. She was taller, all long limbs and lean muscle, and her own undressing was a far simpler affair. She untied the bandana from her neck, letting it drop. She unbuckled her belt, and shucked off her worn leather jacket. As she unbuttoned her shirt, Jacky’s hands were already there, pushing the fabric aside to kiss the warm skin underneath. Shelly smelled like she always did after a job: gunpowder, desert dust, and a faint, sweet hint of her own unique scent that drove Jacky wild.
Jacky’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Shelly’s jeans, pulling them down. Shelly kicked off her boots and slid out of her pants, leaving them in a heap. Jacky followed suit, and Shelly let out a soft, amused sigh as Jacky’s pants hit the floor.
“No boxers again, Jacqueline?”
“They get in the way,” Jacky stated simply, as if it were the most obvious fact in the universe. She was already pushing Shelly back against the driver's seat, her mouth finding the soft swell of Shelly’s breast, licking and sucking until Shelly shivered, the taller woman's head lolling back against the headrest.
As Shelly’s hands came up to grip her shoulders, her movements made her black eyepatch shift. She stilled, her body tensing. Slowly, she reached up and untied the patch, her hand hovering for a moment before she let it fall. She turned her head, avoiding Jacky’s gaze, and looked at her own reflection in the dusty side window. The expression on her face was a familiar one to Jacky: a guarded, unreadable sadness that always broke Jacky’s heart.
The empty socket was a stark, puckered scar, a permanent reminder of a shootout gone wrong in her early days, long before their chaotic family had ever come together. She was dead-broke, and being down on her luck, decided robbing a bank washer next ticket a life free of debt. Unsurprisingly, nothing went as planned for the rookie criminal, and The other officers wanted to either leave her to the vultures or throw her in the slammer, but it was Colt, who was simply a trainee sherrif who was filling in for the old one, who had vehemently turned down those suggestions in order to get Shelly's wounds treated for. He cleaned her wounds, he stayed by her side, he let her bite down on his wallet to ease the pain knowing she could easily run away with it when all was said and done. It was the wound that had cemented her and Colt as the best of friends and her immense hatred for the law.
Jacky’s ministrations stopped. She gently took Shelly’s face in her hands, turning her back. Shelly tried to resist, a flicker of her deep-seated insecurity showing.
“Don’t,” Shelly whispered.
Jacky ignored her, leaning in and pressing a soft, reverent kiss directly onto the scarred eyelid of her left eye. “Hey,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Look at me.”
Shelly’s single brown eye, shimmering with unshed tears, met hers.
“You think this makes ya any less of a badass?” Jacky murmured, her thumb stroking Shelly’s cheek. “You think this makes me want'cha any less? Makes us want'cha ya any less? Shells, this is a part of you. It's a battle scar that proves you’re a survivor. You’re just as strong, just as capable, and just as worthy of being treasured as anyone with two working eyes and more. You’re the most beautiful treasure I ever blasted my way to.”
A single tear escaped Shelly’s good eye, and she let out a shaky breath, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”
“Only for you idiots. Now, where were we?”
The passion returned, fiercer than before, fueled by a raw, vulnerable love. They maneuvered their bodies in the cramped driver’s seat, a tangle of limbs and desperate need. Jacky settled between Shelly’s legs, their bodies aligning perfectly. The wet heat of Shelly’s slick folds met Jacky’s, and they both gasped.
Jacky began to grind her hips, a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent tingles shooting through Shelly’s entire body. Shelly’s hands clenched on Jacky’s strong shoulders, her own hips rising to meet the pressure.
“Oh... Oh dios mio... Jacky...” Shelly moaned, her accent thickening. “Más, por favor…” She was close, so close, the last vestiges of adrenaline and fear being fucked right out of her. “Dime algo, Jacky. Algo dulce. Tell me something sweet. Tell me you love me.”
Jacky pressed a breath-stealing kiss to her neck, her own breathing ragged, leaving a tell-tale purple hickey already blooming.
“Ya know, I’ve stolen a lotta of jewels in my life,” she panted, her hips never ceasing their intoxicating rhythm. “Diamonds big as my fist, rubies that glowed in the dark… but I only ever kept twenty of the most precious ones.”
Shelly was dissolving, her mind going hazy with pleasure. She could barely form words, suppressing a moan. “Wha… what are they?”
Jacky’s lips were at her ear, her voice a hot whisper against her skin as she ground down harder, pushing them both to the edge. “Your heart… and the eighteen other hearts of the loves of my life. They're the most valuable jewels to me, and don'tcha ever forget it.”
That was it. The pure, unadulterated love in that confession, mixed with the overwhelming physical pleasure, sent Shelly over the precipice. A strangled cry tore from her throat as her body arched, her inner muscles clenching violently around nothing and everything. A hot gush of fluid soaked them both, slicking the worn leather of the driver’s seat. The intensity of her orgasm triggered Jacky’s, and the shorter woman followed her over with a string of creative curses and a shuddering groan that vibrated through Shelly’s entire body.
For a long moment, they just lay there, a panting, sweaty mess. Shelly’s legs were shaking uncontrollably, and Jacky was breathing like she’d just drilled through a mountain.
Then, a giggle escaped Shelly’s lips. It was a watery, exhausted sound. Jacky lifted her head, a confused look on her face.
“What?”
“I don’t know,” Shelly said, her giggle turning into shaky laughter. “We just escaped from prison… and now we’re… this.” She gestured vaguely at their naked, slick bodies in the front seat of a van that smelled like sex and carseat leather.
Jacky stared at her for a second, then a grin spread across her face, and she started laughing too. A loud, barking laugh of pure, unadulterated relief and absurdity.
“Why are we laughing?!” Shelly asked between gasps.
“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Jacky howled, collapsing back onto Shelly’s chest.
They quieted down eventually, the laughter fading into comfortable silence. Jacky helped Shelly clean up as best they could with an old rag from the glove compartment, their movements easy and familiar.
As they got dressed, the quiet domesticity felt almost surreal after the chaos of the last hour.
“Aight,” Jacky said, buckling her pants. “Let’s get home. I need a drink. A strong one.”
“No drinking yet,” Shelly said, pulling on her boots.
Jacky scowled. “What? Why the hell not? I just broke out of jail and had sex in the front seat with obe of the loves o' my life! That calls for a celebratory case o' something that’ll make my liver beg for mercy.”
“Because Penny really wants to go to that new seafood place that opened up by the bay,” Shelly said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We're all going. As a family. They’re probably all getting dressed up right now.”
Jacky groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Ughhh... Seafood? Really? Babe, Ya know I hate anything that looks at me from the plate. Plus that shit makes me real gassy...”
“You’ll eat calamari and you’ll like it,” Shelly said, tying her bandana back around her neck, hiding her blossoming hickey from the outside. She looked at Jacky, her single eye soft. “Listen. We drive home, sneak in the back, and if we’re quick about it, we might have time to wear something fancy, too.”
Jacky sighed, a long, put-upon sound. But the thought of their kids—their loud, brilliant, well-behaved menaces—waiting for them made her heart ache in the best way. They had been through a lot, all twenty of them, but it would all work out in the end. Because in the end, they always had each other.
“Fine,” Jacky grumbled, a smile she couldn’t hide playing on her lips. “But I’m taking ma' ammo with me.”
Shelly grinned, climbing back over the console into the driver’s seat and turning the key in the ignition. The van’s engine roared back to life.
“Jacky,” she said, her voice full of love. “We never leave home without 'em.”