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“No need, Coates. I’m all the security they need.”
A bold statement. One I shouldn’t agree with, but deep down, I felt safe with Bane. His commitment to sparing a potential love from pain let me know he wouldn’t give any less in protecting me and Sienna.
He drove out of the Fairfield, setting the course for Sunny’s office. If I thought we’d make the drive in silence, I was wrong.
“See that bakery? They make the best apple Danish pastries you’ve ever tasted. Top-three date night: grab a couple of those bad boys and do the lovers’ walk in Harmony Park. And over there...”
I saw through Bane’s chatter. The time we spent together the night before helped me see a lot about Bane. At first, I pegged him as a stir-crazy nut, high on having someone to talk to. Then, I figured he loved the sound of his voice so much, he didn’t care to hear anyone else’s.
Bane was neither of those things. He listened when it was time to listen. He showed understanding and compassion when it was needed. But he also talked over fears that had to be squashed. And he waxed on about nonsense when you needed to take your mind off your nerves, and breathe.
“Thanks, Bane,” I said, “but I’m okay. I’m not nervous.”
“Who said you were? I was talking about Trapp Tower.”
I hid my smile. “Course you were.”
“Look, Kenzie, Sienna. There it is.”
Leaning forward, I peered out at Sunny’s office. “You’re kidding me. It’s... It’s...”
“An arcade,” Sienna said.
Yes. Despite my brain telling me I couldn’t be seeing what I was looking at, my eyes didn’t lie. A three-story Funhouse Arcade loomed at the end of the street. The Funhouse franchise went out of business years ago. Why wasn’t I surprised that when the time came to buy up an old building to house his operation, Sunny went with this one?
Bane parked beside a row of cars, each more luxury and expensive than the last. He held open the door for us, and the new Sienna and Mackenzie stepped out.
Sienna’s flowy dresses and flowered hair bows didn’t make the trip out of Sunny’s. The woman who dropped her high-heeled boots on the ground followed them with slim legs wrapped in leather. The black bodysuit top fit her like a second skin, transforming my kid sister from fun-loving psychic to vision-wielding badass. Her change was much more profound than mine.
Ripped jean shorts were my go-to on park days. The embroidered boots with flames climbing my ankles were one of my Jasmine Boutique buys, and the pink off-the-shoulder top I sewed out of chiffon, balanced the razor edge of cute and sexy. The one thing I truly needed for this show was my phoenix jacket—made in the last few months of my pregnancy and completed the day before I gave birth to my baby girl.
I was reborn into a new person the day I had Laurel. As I stepped into the arcade, I would be new again.
Inside, rows of unplugged games awaited us. Sienna’s heels sunk in the swirly, multicolored carpet as we checked out the orange walls and an old concession stand. This place had everything it needed if the Funhouse company people ever scrounged up the money to reopen the place. What it didn’t have, was a single person around.
“This is the right place, isn’t it?” Sienna asked. “Could they have packed up and moved since Sunny disappeared?”
“This is the right place,” I said. I fixed on the revolving security camera hanging over the air hockey table. “Don’t need those in a twice-abandoned building.”
“This way.” Bane strode over to the concession stand, flipped the counter up, and made for the door in the back. Together we passed through from the sad shrine of former afternoon fun, and into a criminal’s paradise.
My eyes bugged taking it in at once. Sunny told me exactly what the Sons of Saint got up to, but hearing it was nothing compared to seeing it.
“I run every racket. I’m in every business, Angel. If there’s an underground operation in North Quay, I’m in charge of it and I get the largest cut. In exchange, those operations are allowed to survive my notice.”
I understood what it meant to be in every racket much better than before I walked through the door. The arcade games were cleared away, leaving an open, warehouse-type space with two loft floors above. The whole thing was clearly soundproofed since I didn’t hear a sound from the dozens of people talking, counting, cataloging, and working.
To our left, two women wearing gloves handled priceless antiques, pulling them out of crates bearing foreign airport codes. On my other side, a rack of weapons sat opposite a shelf of ammo, and in the middle, three tatted-up guys were taking them down and checking them. A woman at a desk placed under a spotlight lamp, carefully counting out a pile of what looked to be diamonds. Priceless paintings next to the soda machine. A printing press by the bathroom.
