Thread: Raped Innocence (Xana and Quix)

Where the fuck are we going, the border's West. The hulking six-foot three, heavily tattooed Latino removed a ham-size first from the steering wheel and glared at the man in the passenger seat. Just shut up and drive, trust me. I got you out of that fucking hell-hole didn't I? Although the speaker wasn't as burly, at six feet one with a more athletic frame, Carlos clenched his teeth and nodded in acquiescence. He'd seen what Jimmy was capable of and the warning signals in his piercing green-eyed gaze sent a shiver down his spine. Eight month's James Russo had been stuck in Arcadia prison, every moment watching his back, the bent cop the target of the majority of the jail population. All because of one stupid teenage bitch and that goddamn slut friend of her Mother's. At least the Mother was dead, throat slit right after he'd raped her and that provided some sense of consolation. If only he'd been able to do the daughter as well, not to mention the whore who'd walked in and deprived him of that opportunity. Take a right. Jimmy barked at Carlos, then glanced at the African-American in the back. Like the other two, he wore a prison crew-cut and the obligatory tattoo's, but unlike his compatriots, whilst they were attired in jeans and short-sleeved t-shirts, he sported a State Trooper Uniform that covered them up. Russo appraised him closely, turning back around after he'd passed muster. Just. They wouldn't require the disguise to hold up for long. Both of them drug-mules for the Cartel he'd helped Serve and Protect, they'd been part of the deal. Break them out, and then they were on their own. However, Jimmy, by virtue of his greater propensity for unrestrained violence had been the leader of the pack in Arcadia. And so he remained. Having exercised his constitutional right to a speedy trial, then subsequently agreed to a plea deal on the third day after the prosecution witnesses had testified and the death penalty had become more likely than not, he'd been sentenced to life without possibility of parole. With the right contacts, both in the criminal and law-enforcement communities, he'd soon discovered that even from a prison cell anything was do-able and anyone was corruptible. After greasing the right palms and exchanging a lot of cash, he'd relatively swiftly been able to arrange for the three to be simultaneously transferred from Arcadia to Central State. Unfortunately, the transport van had met a pick-up truck head on as it meandered down the highway and was brought to a sudden halt. Then the doors had been slung open and the two - soon to be well compensated, as would be the driver - prison officers coshed unconscious. It had taken less than half a minute for the trio's' cuffs and shackles to be released and thirty seconds later, Jimmy, Carlos and Duane were ensconced in a stolen white Cortina. Replete with the requested mock uniform. Barely twenty-four hours after their escape, they'd crossed their fourth State Line and entered the residential suburbs of the city that Jimmy had always intended to stop at. He had some business to take care of and by the time the authorities up North stopped scrambling, got their act together and thought about notifying his targets, that business would be finished and he'd be on his way again. He knew how the Law Enforcement bureaucracy worked and that they also weren't likely to be featured on the local news. A big-deal back home, but not here in a State that had its own criminal justice problems and political scandals to flood the airwaves with. Rapists and murderers were a dime-a-dozen all over America. Motioning for Carlos to turn down a side street and pull over to the curb, he silently appraised the residence two doors down. Although Alyssa and Jen had relocated halfway across the country, he'd had no trouble locating their new address or uncovering the fact that they appeared to live alone with no man in sight for either of them. Nor that the young girl rarely went out. Not surprising really, considering how her Mother had ended up. Let's go. From his years in the Force, Jimmy believed the direct approach and hiding in plain sight garnered less suspicion, so he was content to leave the car parked under the lights. The nighttime streets were deserted anyway. Jesus Christ man, are you fucking crazy, what are we doing here? Two more car doors had shut quietly behind him. I told you already, got a debt to collect. Jimmy gripped Carlos' arm, urging him to stay close, and turned to Duane. Remember, take it easy. Friendly but firm. As Duane nodded, then strode confidently up to the porch, Jimmy and Carlos remained in the shadows and snuck their way to the side of the house. On reaching it, Jim wrapped a spare shirt around his fist. Although he hoped it wouldn't come to that and spoil his fun, he was prepared to shatter the nearby window, break his way inside and get the job over quickly if the first plan didn't work. Simultaneously, Duane knocked. Plus, I think you two have earned yourself some pussy. Jim's eyes glittered with anticipation and something much darker as he smiled at Carlos. One of them a sweet-sixteen pussy at that, unless the girl had celebrated a birthday since he'd first encountered her. He decided to leave that tidbit unrevealed a nice surprise for his friends to help soothe any concerns or impatience to get back on the road once they were inside. Duane knocked a second time, Police, Ma'am, please come to the door, and held his badge up to the peephole.