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Samson stared at Tommy for a long few seconds, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged it off his shoulders, and handed it to Jax. He shook out his arms, balled his fist, and landed a solid punch to Tommy’s jaw, jerking his head to the side as a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
“Some jobs you just gotta do yourself.” Samson grabbed a hunk of his hair. “Tell me why you’re really in Vegas, Tommy.”
“I told you, I like the weather.” He grinned through bloody lips.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a drain under this chair. It makes the cleanup easier.”
Tommy’s eyes darted from Samson to Jax and back to Samson. “Ahh, c’mon, man. We’ve known each other for years.”
The bouncer's face hardened, and Jax barked out a laugh. “Fuckin’ moron.”
Samson leaned in a few inches from Tommy’s face. “Opening night, and I got a big party goin’ on upstairs. I sure as shit would rather be up there than deal with a sorry fucker like you. So, you tell me what I wanna know, and maybe I’ll let you walk outta here.”
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”
“Okay, then I guess it’s gonna be your blood dripping down that drain.” Samson shot a glance at Jax. “Kinda sweet Tommy’s gonna christen the panic room.” Then he glared down at Tommy. “Seems a shame to make your ugly face look worse, but I guess we’re gonna do this the hard way.”
Samson landed another shot to Tommy’s face, this one hitting closer to his eye. “Now, tell me who sent you out here.”
Samson was already ninety-five percent sure of the answer, but making his point and using Tommy to do it would guarantee this kind of bullshit didn’t happen again.
“Fuck you.” Tommy spat out blood, barely missing Samson’s Ferragamos.
“You just can’t reason with some people.” Samson nodded to the bouncer, and a few seconds later, he placed a Louisville slugger in his hand. Samson swung the bat in a wide circle. “That’s why sometimes you have to go the extra mile.” Samson pointed it at Tommy’s kneecaps. “I’m thinking it’s really gonna hurt if I whack those skinny-ass knees with this bat.”
Tommy struggled against the tape, rocking the chair.
“Or maybe I’ll go for the ribs first. Slam them hard enough, and you won’t be able to breathe too good.” Samson grinned at Jax. “Maybe not at all.”
“No, no, you don’t understand. If I tell you, I’ll be in big trouble.”
“You’re in big trouble now, asshole.” Samson slammed the bat against the side of his knee, and Tommy screamed. “You ready to talk?” Samson held the bat over his head.
“All right, all right, just put that thing down.”
“In case you haven’t figured this out, you’re not in a position to negotiate. Now, tell me what I wanna know.”
Samson raised the bat again. Tommy moaned, then gasped in a breath. “Frank sent me,” Tommy wheezed out the words. “Told me to start selling shit in the club.”
Yup, just as Samson expected.
“Just tonight?” Samson asked. “To fuck with the opening?”
Tommy paused, and Samson twirled the bat in his hand.
“Wanted me to do it for a few weeks,” Tommy spewed. “Then he was gonna call the cops for a raid.”
“But your dumb ass got caught the first fuckin’ night. You’ve been doin’ this shit for years, so how come you got busted so fast?”
“I . . . I ducked into the men’s room with this chick. We did a few lines, and then I balled her up against the wall. Her fuckin’ big mouth told her girlfriend I had some premium shit, and he overheard.” Tommy jerked his chin to the bouncer standing behind him.
Samson huffed out a laugh. “This stupid fucker put pussy before business.” He slowly shook his head. “Yeah, Frank sure ain’t gonna like that.”
Samson turned to Jax, who handed him a towel. He wiped off his hands, retrieved his shirt, slipped it on, buttoned it, then nodded toward the door.
“Hey,” Tommy called out. “What about me? I told you what you wanted to know. Let me up outta here.”
“You know what to do,” Samson said over his shoulder.
