After about forty minutes of going over the details, we head out of the building, and Kenton gets into his car while Justin and I ride with Gene in his SUV so we can head across town. As we drive, all the rage I felt earlier comes back full force, and even if I know it might not be smart to head into a situation pissed off, I need that anger, because I have a point to make.
When we reach the area the studio is in, we double park close to a stop sign, Kenton in his jeep in front of us, and we wait. From what Justin was able to find by tapping into Cohen’s credit card and footage from a couple of the cameras around the studio, the singer has kept a tight schedule most nights. He and his crew normally leave the studio around midnight, then head downtown to the strip, where they party for a few hours before heading back to the house they rent.
Only tonight, with any luck, we’ll pick him up before he has a chance to meet with his friends so that he and I can have a talk. As the minutes tick past midnight, I look back at Justin, who is sitting in the third row, and he lifts his eyes off his computer to meet my gaze.
“He’s here—just have some patience,” he mutters, then I notice Gene become alert, so I look out the windshield and see Cohen exiting the studio with another man.
The two of them stop at the back of a pickup truck and talk for a moment before they part ways, the guy getting into his truck while Cohen heads for a black Benz on the opposite side of the lot. After the guy pulls out and takes off, Cohen backs out of his spot, then heads for the exit, flipping on his turn signal to go left. Kenton, who was parked in front of us, takes a right ahead of him, then we follow, sandwiching him in.
“We’re right behind you,” Gene says when Kenton stops at the first stop sign, with Cohen stopping behind him. I get out, lift my chin, and remove the gun Kenton gave me from the back of my jeans before I approach Cohen’s car on the driver side. Going on instinct, I open his door, and his head spins my way while his eyes go wide.
“What the fuck?”
“Give me your cell and move the fuck over,” I tell him, and he swallows, handing me the phone already in his hand before unhooking his belt and moving over to the passenger seat.
“How much money do you want?” he asks, and I laugh, the sound gruff and foreign to my own ears.
“I’m not after your money.” I press down on the gas when Kenton pulls off, and I follow.
“Then what do you want?” he questions, and I see him reach for the door handle out the corner of my eye.
“You don’t want to do that.” I press the barrel of the gun against his thigh and click off the safety. “Not that I’d be upset about having a reason to shoot you.”
“What’s this about?”
“You and I are going to have a conversation.” I turn right and follow Kenton into a parking garage that’s in the middle of being renovated. When we get up to the fourth floor that is completely empty, I park and shut off the engine, grabbing the keys, and ordering, “Get out.”
“Man, just tell me what you want,” he begs, looking around the dark space, and I shake my head.
“Just get the fuck out.” I open my door, then wait for him to emerge on the opposite side of the car before I slam it closed and walk around to where he’s now standing with his back to the open edge of the building. I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for Kenton, Justin, and Gene to join me, taking some satisfaction when he registers that he has no way of escaping, is outnumbered and fucked if he’s not careful.
“If this isn’t about money, I—”
“Let’s talk about April Mayson,” I say, and the look in his eyes changes ever so slightly, the muscle in his jaw clenching tight.
“What about her?” he asks, then his eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. “Wait, are you the guy she’s seeing now?” He tosses his head back and laughs. “Fuck, I can’t believe this. What, are you so insecure in your relationship with her that you needed to kidnap me?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to just shoot him?” Gene asks, taking a step toward him pulling out his glock, and I reach out, placing my hand against his chest, holding him back while never taking my eyes off Cohen.
“Insecure? No. Just done with your bullshit affecting my woman.”