"David Robbins - Blade 13 - Vengeance Strike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

better." Malcolm gestured along the block. "All the babes who work this
district do so under me. It's mine, understand? And I get twenty percent
of your nightly take. Hold out and you're a dead woman."

Now he understood. "Oh. You're a pimp."

The simple statement provoked Malcolm. He lowered his voice and
hissed, "Don't ever call me that again. I like to think of myself as a
merchandiser of sensual delights."

"An onion by any other name," he paraphrased, and felt Luther's hand
close onto his right arm.

"You're coming with me."
 "Where to?"

Luther didn't bother to answer. He headed toward a white limousine
with tinted windows parked ten feet away at the curb. A man wearing
black leather clothing stood beside the car holding the rear door open.

"Get in, bitch," Luther commanded.

Keenly aware of the few stares being directed in their direction, and not
wanting to create a disturbance that would attract the police, he
complied, restraining his temper for the time being. Sliding over to the
opposite door, he primly folded his hands, in his lap.

In came Luther, who waited until the other man shut the door, walked
around the front of the car, and climbed in behind the wheel before
getting down to cases.

"Okay, woman. No one treats me with disrespect. You're going to learn
the hard way not to mouth off to me."

"I'd rather not."

The driver laughed.

"You don't have no say in the matter," Luther said, balling his right
hand into a fist."And who knows? After I'm done we'll go to my place. If I
like you I may take you into my stable."

"I'd rather eat puke."

"What?" Luther responded angrily.

He saw no reason to delay. The tinted windows prevented anyone
outside from observing the interior. Snaking both hands outward in a
blurred motion, he took the men simultaneously, his left hand clamping
on the driver's neck while his right seized the pimp's throat.