Disclaimer: Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles or any of the characters depicted from the show do not belong to me. No infringement intended and no profit will be made from their use.

Author's Note: This story is rated M for the violence and sexual content. If real life bothers you don't read this story. I have tried to be delicate in its handling, but violence is violence and rape is horrible.

Chapter I: Iron Jane

The sky over New Orleans was blue on a lovely April day in 1966. A teenage boy was sitting on a blanket with his girlfriend, they were listening to WTIX. The Beatles were singing 'She Was Just Seventeen' and a yellow jacket was dive bombing the couple in order to get some of the salt from their sandwiches. A yellow lemon cake was sliced neatly and sat between them. In a Coke cooler filled with ice was several bottles of Coke.

At the edge of the open area next to the trees and shrubs were a tall brunette young woman and two younger boys playing baseball. The girl was seventeen and junior at Ursuline Academy. She was a scholarship student for volleyball, tennis, softball and track. She was all of six feet, but only weighed a little over 130 pounds of muscle. She was obviously teaching the younger boys to play baseball. The boys were ten and eight.

An older man was sitting on a stone park bench feeding pigeons and ogling the two young ladies sitting on a black and yellow afghan of the latest style. One was reading and the other was scanning the crowd with alluring eyes.

Antoinette was a bright and gay twenty-six year old blonde with rich bedroom blue eyes. At the moment, she was employed by Constance Isles as companion for her fourteen year old daughter, Maura. Antoinette didn't particularly like Maura. She thought the girl was too smart, scary smart. The twenty-six year old was intimidated by the girl's total confidence in her intelligence. The girl mystified and confused the French blonde. Maura took no interest in boys or parties or having fun. The blonde was also jealous of Maura's natural beauty. While she had to spend an hour each morning looking gorgeous, Maura spent no time enriching her looks. The young girl would put on some lipstick and brush her hair and come out all fresh and beautiful. The French woman also felt that Maura's rich hazel eyes were looking deep into her soul and analyzing her strengths and weaknesses. No, Antoinette did not like the girl.

But what Antoinette did like was flirting. To her flirting was an art form, which she had totally perfected. The blonde French woman often took her charge in hand and went to study in the park across from their residence in the Garden District. Audubon Park was directly across from their two hundred year home separated by the street car line running down the median of St. Charles Avenue.

The sounds of birds and the clang of the street car filled the air, as Maura read the latest AMA Journal. At fourteen, Maura was a junior in high school. She had been going to school in France, but recent events had forced her mother to take a position in New Orleans.

Her parents had purchased a small mansion in the fashionable Garden District. The house had eleven bedrooms, four baths, a formal dining room, a dining room, a library, a den, a family room, a living room, pallor, a conservatory, two kitchens, one outdoors for summer and the other for the colder months and separate servant's quarters, which used to be the slave quarters.

None of this mattered to Maura. She hated the place. It was huge and her room was on the East Wing and her parents were on the West Wing. Antoinette had the room adjacent to hers on the right and her bodyguard Winston Charmers had the other adjacent room. Her room was sandwiched between the two people hired to inhibit her freedom.

Maura sat reading the same page of her book over and over, while she was lost in her thoughts. The young golden haired girl couldn't wait to start school at Ursuline Academy. Hazel eyes scanned the page for the third or fourth time until she got frustrated and turned to the next page. The young girl thought about only getting a couple of months before summer vacation, but at least she would be away from her companion and bodyguard.

The teenager didn't know that the reason she had to be so closely guarded was that she was the biological daughter of the Irish crime lord, Patrick Doyle. Her identity was a closely guarded secret, but recent events in his territory in New Orleans had made security paramount.

The Irish gangs were at peace with the Italians, Cajuns and Polish, but the Germans and Spanish had united to take over a third of the Irish territory. So if Maura's identity was compromised, she would become a target.

What Doyle and the Isles did not know was that her identity had been compromised by the Germans and that a squad of their men was closing in to kidnap the girl.

Jane Rizzoli wore her black leather jacket with pride, not because of the rich Italian leather or the polished nickel buttons or the tough looking chains. No she wore with pride because of the colors sewn on the back.

Jane Rizzoli, the tall brunette with the large chocolate eyes, was the leader of one the most feared gangs in the Irish Channel, the St. Roche War Lords. They and the Irish controlled 85% of the Channel.

The Warlords paid their tithe to the Marcello Brothers every month without fail. They had flourished under the Marcellos and no reason to want to rock the boat.

The gang was running at least six independent scams throughout the city. Jane controlled the rich paper routes and had six paper stands. Her pocket men hit the tourist in the Quarter, daily. Once every other week, they would hit a truck or a store safe. All in all, her gang was pulling in twelve to fifteen hundred a month. The leader's cut was 10% off the top. With the Marcellos pulling 10% and the Bevenettas another 15%, the gang was splitting 65%. Her ten percent was more money than her stepfather was pulling working a rotten chef's job at the airport.

The young brunette was at the top of the food chain in the gang world. She was the head of the most serious gang in a very serious world. For seven years now, the seventeen year old had grown from a scared ten year old looking for protection from bullies to the gang's leader and top enforcer.

Their gang was primarily Italian. Each neighborhood was divided along ethnic lines. Not out of any prejudice, but out of commonality. The Italians, many of whom spoke only Italian at home congregated with other Italians, as did the Spanish, the Polish, the Cajuns, the Germans, the Greeks and the WASPS (White Anglo Saxon Protestants)

Other than the WASPS and the Greeks, the neighborhood was Roman Catholic, strict Roman Catholics. Most first born sons went into the priesthood and many of the girls became nuns. The church was a safe haven from the brutality of the streets.

Jane had earned a street name, Il Finitore (the Finisher). She never started trouble, but she always finished it. Once she became involved, the matter was finished.

The tall brunette earned her reputation one day in 1964. She had just turned 14. She and her friend were on their way home from the annual CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) Halloween Hop. The dances, like the ball park and the school, was consider neutral territory and no one was to ever cause trouble of any kind.

Well, Horace Godofsky, the leader of the Polish Bulldogs decided to take down the rising Italian group. The best way he could figure to take them down, was to eliminate their two best fighters, Jane Rizzoli and Joseph Vincenso.

At fifteen, Big Joe Vincenso was 6'2" and 265 pounds of muscle. He was a scholarship player for the Jesuit Blue Jays, who would go on to win the Catholic League that year. He was big, tough and Jane's best friend.

Godofsky had five gang members with him and stood in Jane's way home. Jane didn't talk or threaten, she acted. The young brunette knew she and Joe had one chance. They had to break through and run. So, she charged with Big Joe right behind.

It was the last thing the Polish gang expected. They were caught flatfooted and two of the Bulldogs were down before they could react. The tactic almost succeeded, but one of the Poles threw a pipe at Jane's ankles and downed her. Joe stopped to help and was overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Horace was not pleased. A girl had almost forced her way through his carefully laid ambush. Now, she had to pay. It had already been decided there could be no survivors. The gang was breaking too many treaty terms with too many gangs. The Bulldogs would lose all standing and have to pay indemnities, if anyone found out.

But the Big Pole wanted to break the girl. Girl should be finding a husband, not being in a gang. She didn't belong and had to be made an example, so no other female would follow her example. So, he pulled a knife and started to cut off her clothes.

The other gang members became nervous. This was not part of the plan and Boris Wincowski shouted, "What you doing, man? This is not right. We came to finish these guys, but what you're doing is wrong, man."

The Polish leader looked hard at his boys and replied, "Do you want more whores in the gangs? We have to make sure all the whores know what will happen if they get caught in a gang. We came to do a job and we need to do it right."

Big Joe was handcuffed behind his back with his legs tied. He cursed them for cowards and was rewarded with a blow to the head and a gag.

After her clothes were cutoff, Horace Godofsky became a rapist. Jane didn't fight him; she just bided her time. She knew if she could keep them involved long enough, her gang would notice them missing and come looking. It was their only chance.

So, the young Italian endured. She endured each of the Poles thrusting in her. She endured their cramming their penises into her mouth. She endured each degradation, so she would eventually win.

Her gamble paid off. Noticing that their two best fighters were missing, the entire gang started backtracking. Little Tucky spotted them first and shouted for the others. This alerted the Poles, who started running, except for one of them. As they started to run one of the one watching Big Joe slipped a shiv in his side.

Abe Johansson was taking his turn when the other Italians arrived. Jane wrapped her long legs around him and held on. Abe, a big man, punched her several times in the face to force her to let go. She barely held on until the others arrived. They grabbed the struggling Abe and forced him to the ground. Every one of them was pounding on the teenage boy, until Jane yelled, "Stop it. We need him alive. Take him to the house and call the cops. We need an ambulance."

Her guys were not so easily calmed and a couple of them kept kicking the prone Pole. Jane had to calm them down or they were going to kill him. She needed the cops to come, but she didn't need a stiff around when they arrived. So she shouted, "Bring this piece of shit to the house and make sure he's safe and comfy until I get out of the hospital. We'll need guard while Joe and I recover two guys in three shifts."

Everyone noticed that Jane not Lou, the present leader, was giving the orders. No one knew when it happened, but Lou had been replaced by the iron Jane, who had proved herself by a trial no girl should ever have to endure.