So he grabbed the Beretta from the bag. But the way the pimp’s face blanched, Geoff figured maybe the cops were for real. He took a bunch of bananas off the table and threw them into the black bag, then stuffed the two guns underneath the sofa cushions. “Let them think you’re just a john, got it?” Jammer hissed. “You’re still wearing clothes—they’ve got nothing on you. Just shut up and look scared. Both of you, sit at the table.” He went to the door and unlocked it, yelling, “All right, all right, don’t break it down!” The cops seemed to fill the room, just the two of them, a big black guy and a white guy. Both had drawn guns. “Hands on your head, all of you. Clamp those hands together now!” Jammer, Geoff, and Carly did as they were told. The white cop covered them. The black guy walked through the apartment quickly, while Jammer shouted, “Hey, where’s the warrant? You got your free look last time, now show me a warrant!” Geoff put a surprised expression on his face.
