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Another cop joined them and directed his question to Samson. “You’re one of the owners?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you here all night?” The cop pulled out a pad and pen.
“No.” Samson looked over the cop's shoulder to see another cop questioning Nick and another corralling Jax.
What a total fuck up.
“Do you have any idea how these women got the drugs?”
“I just told you I wasn’t here, so how the fuck would I know where they got them? Maybe it was on them when they got here.”
“You allow drugs in your club?”
“No, we don’t fuckin’ allow drugs in the club, but we don’t do a strip search either. How the fuck would we know what our customers have on them when they come in?”
“This will go much easier and faster if you cooperate, sir.” It seemed that Vegas cops had the same condescending attitudes as the NYPD.
“I’d love to cooperate, but I don’t know what the fuck happened here either.”
“If you weren’t here, then where were you tonight?” The cop scribbled away on his pad.
NYPD or Metro—it didn’t matter where they were from—all they were interested in was getting everything down on paper so they could shove it down your throat later.
“I was over at Ecstasy.”
His eyebrows raised. “The strip club?”
“Nothing illegal about watching tits and ass, is there?” Samson smirked around his words.
“Didn’t say there was. Just clarifying your answer.”
“Instead of asking me stupid-ass questions, why don’t you find out who gave those girls the drugs?”
Samson stepped away, and the cop grabbed his arm. “We’re not done here yet.”
He glared at the cop's hand on his bicep. “Take your fuckin’ hands off me.”
“Let’s dial it down,” Nick’s low rasp rose behind him.
“This is fuckin’ bullshit.” Samson raged.
“Once everyone has vacated the club, we’re doing a total search of the premises.”
Samson stepped to the cop. “You need a fuckin’ warrant.”
Another cop pulled a piece of paper out of his uniform and waved it in the air. “I suggest you calm down and sit tight because we may be here a while.”
Nick gripped Samson’s shoulder and firmly shoved him back into the main bar. “You know better than to pop off at a cop.” Nick hissed through clenched teeth. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“I was just about to ask you the same damn thing.” Samson pushed Nick off. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ever since you came out here, you’ve been acting different, telling me how to act.”
“I’m just telling you to back off. This ain’t Brooklyn. We don’t have the same kinda pull here.”
