Free Shetani's Sister by Iceberg Slim Page A

“Don’t be sorry. You bring the package?” he managed to say sweetly.
    “I sure did, sweet dick, and it’s heavenly,” she said as she fumbled in her bosom. She dipped a tiny coke spoon into a glassine bag. She extended it and the bag. “There’s more than the gram you ordered in this bag.”
    His right hand took her wrist and guided the spoon to his nose. “I’ll pay you for the coke before we split,” he said as he hungrily snorted the spoon empty. She nodded.
    The quality dope enhanced his rage and impaired his judgment. He took the bag and shoved it into a coat pocket. “Thanks, I needed a lift, with all the new girls running my ass ragged.”
    She gave him a look. He knew the crack was stupid. He’d have to control himself until he could have his way with her.
    He took Cahuenga Boulevard on his way into a section of the Hollywood Hills. He knew a spot that was ideal for a mind-blowing inquisition. Ten minutes later, he was well into the hills.
    “Hey, honey, where we going? Don’t forget, I’m a working girl,” she said in a strained voice.
    “No way, sugar, can I forget that. In a few minutes, we’re going to have some class-A privacy together.” He bared his teeth in an awful smile as he finally drove through the open wrought-iron gates of a once-opulent estate.
    The concrete foundations of the razed mansion and secondary buildings gleamed white on an incline in the moonlight.
    He took a side road into a densely forested area and parked. His right hand took her left hand and studied it in the dash light. His left hand darted into his jacket pocket and removed handcuffs.
    He vised her left wrist and handcuffed it to the steering wheel. She screamed. He cut her off with a violent launch of his right elbow to her belly button. She vomited on the floor mat. He seized her long white mane and jerked up her sagging head. He stared coldly into her glazed eyes.
    “Jerry, why are you doing this?” she mumbled piteously.
    He backhanded his right fist into her rib cage. She groaned in pain. His left hand got the revolver from behind his back. He started to unload the gun beneath her bulging eyes. “You conning cocksucking bitch! Let’s play an old game. I’m going to spill your brains if you don’t spill your fucking guts,” he warned as he finished removing all but one of the bullets before her terror-bright eyes.
    He dropped the bullets into his shirt pocket. He lifted the gun from the seat between them. As he did, he removed the remaining bullet and palmed it in his left hand. He spun the chamber and rammed the muzzle of the gun against her left temple. He pulled the trigger.
    In a violent spasm of fright, her buttocks bucked a foot off the seat at the sound of the metallic click of the gun.
    “That was for me, the friend you double-crossed. Why did you tip that gang of girls to my Israeli accent and the plate numbers?” he stage-whispered, with his gray eyes afire.
    “I just wanted to help them because they’re working girls, too.”
    He pulled the trigger. She broke into wild weeping and pounding of her thigh with her right fist. “Please, don’t do that again. Those girls are my friends, my stablemates,” she blubbered.
    “Where is your pimp, and where are you and the others from?”
    “He’s visiting in Chicago. We came from the Apple.”
    “What’s your boss’s true name?”
    She shook her head vigorously. “Please don’t ask me to do that to my man…”
    He pulled the trigger. She shivered uncontrollably and released a fresh flood of tears.
    “Give me his name, stupid bitch. I’m pulling the trigger, and this may be the end for you. Well?”
    She blurted, “Master Shetani.”
    “I said I wanted his true name, not a moniker.”
    “Oh Jesus! Please, believe me, that’s the only name he’s known by.”
    Crane reloaded the gun and pondered his position and what to do about Petra. He could cut her loose in the raw. That would be without an ongoing deal to supply undercover