Forever Concealed

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Forever Concealed Page 8

by Kathleen Brooks


  So a prince and an FBI agent were close friends. Sloane couldn’t get the image of a snooty prince in a castle out of her head. What if what he told her before was true? That his mom just threw a punch at someone, he’d had to clean out stalls as punishment, and his dad sounded so cool . . . but how much of that was true and how much was the lie he told her to get laid?

  “Sloane, um, didn’t know who I was,” Gabe admitted.

  Sloane watched Ryan’s eyes widen in surprise, and his lips cracked open and a loud laugh burst out. Sloane looked at Gabe, who rolled his eyes. Against her will, she smiled at him. Gabe looked so happy at her smile that she began to feel the first threads of doubt leave. Maybe he wasn’t playing her?

  “I can’t wait to tell Sienna,” Ryan gasped as he wiped at his eyes. “You really didn’t know who he was?”

  Sloane shook her head. “He led me to believe he was in college, studying international relations.”

  Ryan started laughing again and said something about having to text his wife.

  “If you say one word, I’ll tell the Rose sisters Sienna is pregnant,” Gabe said threateningly as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared Ryan down.

  Ryan went pale. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. I feel bad enough that I embarrassed Sloane by not telling her who I was. Especially since it’s because of me she was put in harm’s way—twice. I won’t have you telling the whole town.”

  Oh, no. Sloane was definitely weakening in her anger toward him. “Who are the Rose sisters and why are you so scared of them?”

  “They’re the dragons of Keeneston. They just turned one hundred. They rule the town and the gossip tree that starts with the Blossom Café,” Gabe explained.

  “And they’ve bet on who will have the first baby among this generation of couples. My wife, Sienna, and I have been married the longest, so everyone thinks it’ll be us. The other night I caught them going through our garbage. I ran them off before they got into the first bag, though,” Ryan explained, and now it was Sloane’s turn to burst out laughing.

  “I can see the big FBI agent running off a trio of elderly women. Were you afraid they’d hit you with their walkers?” Sloane asked, finding it easy to feel accepted by Gabe and his friend.

  “Broom,” Gabe and Ryan said at the same time.

  “No way,” Sloane laughed, not believing them for a second.

  “Yep,” Gabe confirmed. “Miss Lily wields a broom, Miss Daisy a wooden spoon, and Miss Violet a spatula.”

  “They used them to keep us in line when we were young boys,” Ryan explained. “Now they use them to threaten me to hurry up and have another generation of babies for them to raise. As if I don’t get that enough from my mother and grandmother.”

  “I thought Mrs. Davies just wanted grandchildren, which she has plenty of,” Gabe said to Ryan. Sloane took a seat on the couch and listened. Hearing them talk as two friends, as two equals, somehow comforted her more than anything Gabe could say.

  “Nope. She’s declared she can’t die without great-grandchildren. My grandpa just nods and says for once he agrees,” Ryan told them as he and Gabe continued to talk, including her in the conversations until she heard the chime again. Gabe picked up his phone and pressed a button.

  “Nash is here.”

  “Good thing, I was running out of embarrassing stories to tell Sloane about you,” Ryan said, sending her a kind smile.

  Sloane returned his smile as the elevator opened and footsteps grew closer. Ryan had put her at ease and had told her stories about Keeneston, the Rose sisters, and the trouble the boys got into growing up. Ryan made Gabe sound like a completely normal person. He never once mentioned him being a prince or any other royalty. In fact, he referred to Gabe’s parents as Mo and Dani. She had no idea what to think of the man standing in front of her. Was he a liar? A cheat? A prince? Or just the man she’d started to fall for?

  * * *

  Gabe owed Ryan the best bottle of bourbon he could find. Gabe could see Sloane relaxing as the two distracted her with stories from their youth. However, at the sound of Nash approaching, he knew that would be coming to an end. He was a prince. Someone was trying to kill him. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. The last time was in Monaco two years before in the form of a woman with a needle filled with insulin.

  Gabe had handled it himself and had handed her off to Nabi, Nash’s predecessor as local protection for the royal family. It had turned out the woman had been hired by an oil company whom Rahmi had refused to work with. But now there was a woman Gabe cared about in the picture.

  “Detective Braxton filled me in and is on her way. What do I need to know before she arrives?” Nash asked, not bothering to introduce himself to Sloane. Gabe shot him a look to remember his manners. Ahmed had trained Nash, that much was clear, especially when Sloane tried to make herself invisible.

  “Nash, this is Sloane Holiday.”

  “I know,” Nash said simply, and Gabe wanted to punch him.

  “I like her, and it would be nice to introduce her to my best friend.”

  That caught Nash off guard. The look of cold-blooded calculation and determination on his face softened. Not much, but enough to make him a little less scary. When Nash had arrived in Keeneston, he’d been short and skinny as a rail. Tough workouts and eating at the Blossom Café had helped him grow to six feet of hardened, lethal muscle.

  “Really?” Nash said with some interest as Gabe and Ryan nodded.

  “Hmm, interesting.” Nash looked to Sloane, who stared back with fearful wide eyes.

  “Are you that scary man’s son?” Sloane asked. Gabe snorted before covering up his laugh with a cough. Ryan didn’t bother trying to cover it. He just laughed. Even Nash smiled.

  “He’s my mentor. I’m Nash Dagher, head of Gabe’s security.”

  “I gathered that. So, he’s a prince or something, and he only has one person watching him . . . sometimes?” Sloane asked as Gabe could see her trying to come to grips with who he was and how he lived.

  Nash looked quickly to Gabe who just shook his head.

  “Very interesting indeed,” Nash muttered as he realized Sloane had no clue about Gabe or his family. He then turned back to Sloane and gave her a soft smile. “I take it you do not know about Gabe’s situation?”

  Sloane shook her head as Nash and Ryan sat in the two leather chairs. “Gabe, you need to fill her in.”

  “I know.” Gabe sat on the couch next to Sloane. He was thigh to thigh with her, and even in a situation like this, he felt the connection between them. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose it. “Sloane, my uncle is King Dirar of Rahmi. It’s a small island country close to where the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea meet.”

  “Your uncle is a king?” Sloane asked slowly.

  “Yes. And my cousin and older twin brother, the ones I’ve told you about, are the heirs.”

  “But if your brother is an heir—”

  “I’m third in line. Soon to be fourth whenever my brother and his wife have a child. Possibly even fifth or sixth when my cousin starts having children with his wife. However, I am in the family business of diplomacy, and I’m afraid you may have gotten stuck in the middle of a tense negotiation with King Draven of Bermalia,” Gabe explained.

  “Is any of what you told me true? Do you live here? Did you even grow up on a farm? Did your mother really punch someone?” Sloane asked as he felt her body begin to shake. Gabe didn’t know if it was nervousness or anger.

  “Yes, all of it is true. Ryan, Nash, and I are from Keeneston. That’s where I grew up. My parents, who have the title prince and princess, have a horse farm called Desert Sun. And growing up, I worked that farm every day, just like I told you. I was, and am, very much a regular guy. My mother, who did in fact just punch the king of Bermalia, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Sloane looked to the others who nodded. “I should know,” Ryan said, speaking up gently. “His mom and my mom are best fr
iends and we grew up together. Nash joined us when we were older, but he can testify to it as well. The entire royal family living here is made up of ordinary people. In Keeneston, they’re simply Mo, Dani, Zain, Gabe, and Ariana.”

  “Except, now that Zain and Gabe have become more public, they have more problems outside of Keeneston,” Nash said, bringing them onto point. “And since that problem is staying in a hotel down the street, we need to come up with a way to handle it.”

  Sloane didn’t say anything as she sat next to him. When Gabe went to hold her hand, she slowly moved it out of his reach. The loss was instantaneous, but Gabe knew he needed to give her more time so he placed his hand back in his lap and focused on Nash.

  “What do you need?” Gabe asked.

  “First, I need to know everything that happened—from both of you. Ryan, why don’t you take Sloane to get a drink while I hear Gabe’s take on the events.”

  “Sloane can stay here,” Gabe told him, not wanting to leave her.

  “I need your stories to be your own. I don’t want any confusion,” Nash instructed as Ryan stood and held out his hand for Sloane.

  “Come on. I know where he keeps the really good stuff.” He winked and Sloane gave him a small, but weak, smile.

  Nash and Gabe watched until she was out of earshot. When he looked back, Nash was on his phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Poppy and Zinnia have modernized the Blossom Café betting pool. It can be done electronically now. I just texted them twenty dollars on you being married this year.”

  “You’re worse than my mother,” Gabe said, shaking his head.

  “I don’t think so. Your mother already has your tuxedo hanging in her closet. I’m giving you seven months,” Nash smiled before putting away his phone. “Now, tell me everything.”

  11

  “You know, he’s a good guy,” Ryan told Sloane as he poured her a drink.

  “He lied to me,” Sloane said softly as she stared out the windows.

  “He did it so you’d like him for himself. Do you know how many women try to be with him only so they can end up on the news or in magazines? They don’t like Gabe. They just like the idea of being a princess,” Ryan said, setting the bottle of amber liquid back down.

  “But who is he really? A prince or a boy running around a farm playing pranks?”

  “He’s a hard-working country man who just happens to be a prince. He’s smart, he cares about people, he loves both of his countries, he’s loyal, he’s funny, but his job is just a little different from most. And that’s what it is to him—a job. It’s not who he is; it’s what he is. And in the almost thirty-one years I’ve known him, he’s never cared about what a woman thinks of him . . . until you.”

  “You sound more like a therapist than an FBI agent,” Sloane said, trying to lighten the mood even though her thoughts were already on what Ryan had said.

  “My wife. She’s a sports psychologist for the Lexington Thoroughbreds NFL team. I guess she’s rubbed off on me.” Ryan winked and let them lap into silence.

  Sloane took a small sip of her drink. She wasn’t a big drinker, but right now she needed its warmth. She had so much to think about, starting with did she run away from Gabe or run into his arms? Most importantly, he hadn’t been the only one hiding something. She had hinted at a troubled family life, but what would he do when she told him all of it? And could she endure the look of disappointment and disgust once she did?

  “Miss Holiday?”

  Sloane turned from the window and found Nash standing where Ryan had been. Ryan was now in the living room talking to Gabe, and she was face to face with Scary Man, Jr.

  “Sloane is fine.” She hadn’t realized Nash had finished talking to Gabe.

  “Sloane then. Can you tell me everything from the past two incidences starting with Billy’s the other night?”

  Sloane shook her head quickly. “But that was just some drunk college guys.”

  Nash looked grim. “No, it wasn’t. We believe it was the same men who tried to kidnap Gabe today.”

  Sloane took a deep breath. She wanted to comfort Gabe, hang onto him, keep him safe, yet at the same time could she deal with this happening all the time? “How often does this kind of thing happen?”

  “Very rarely. But we prepare just the same. Gabe has been training for it as long as I have, if not longer. He’s perfectly capable of keeping you safe. Have no worries about that.”

  “I wasn’t worried about me. I was worried about him.”

  Nash looked thoughtfully at her for a second before prompting her to start at the beginning. Sloane told him the whole story. From the first time she noticed Gabe in the bar, to thinking he was a student, to how he rescued her from the drunken college man, to the shooting, and then to the attempted kidnapping.

  It helped her to talk about it, even if it was to a man who looked as if he could overthrow a country single-handedly. Now if only her brain and heart could agree on Gabe. The doorbell rang; Nash looked at the panel on the wall and pressed a button.

  “I got it,” he called out to where Gabe and Ryan sat talking in the living room. Nash turned back to Sloane. “I’m not an easy man to love, but my wife says it’s worth it. We fought for each other against terrifying odds and I’ve only regretted it took me so long to go after her. I get the sense you’re strong enough and brave enough to fight for the life you want. That much is easy to tell from your past.”

  Sloane felt herself get dizzy as the blood drained from her face. He knew. How was it possible? She’d covered her tracks.

  “It’s decision time. Are you going to walk out, or are you going to fight for him? Gabe deserves nothing less than someone who will face down dragons for him. I can already tell you, he’s done the same for you and will until his dying breath. Now, let’s see what you’re made of because here comes your first dragon.”

  The elevator door opened and footsteps pounded down the hallway. A strikingly beautiful woman rushed into the living room as Gabe stood, surprised. The woman had tears running down her sharp cheekbones and when she wrapped Gabe in a hug, she wasn’t that much shorter than he was. Her black hair was streaked with silver, just as the man’s was who came rushing in after her.

  Sloane looked back and forth between them and it was easy to know who they were—Gabe’s parents. His father and he wore the same expression on their face, but Gabe was a little taller and more muscular than the lean man hugging his wife and son. When the woman turned slightly, Sloane saw that Gabe had inherited her eyes.

  “You were shot at and now they tried to kidnap you. I should have let Veronica rip his little dick off. I’ll kill him!” Gabe’s mom said vehemently as she hugged Gabe to her once again.

  “Dear, you can’t be dismembering royalty. However, a duel is a possibility,” his father said, prying his mother off Gabe. “We were so worried. We got the text from DeAndre and then five seconds later from John. However, we didn’t hear anything else until Nash told us you were home. What happened?”

  “We—” Gabe started, but his mother stopped him.

  “We?” she asked, the tears suddenly dried.

  Gabe let out a long-suffering sigh. Apparently he hadn’t lied to Sloane when he had told her his mother really wanted him to have a girlfriend. Gabe’s eyes met hers then. They were filled with longing, desire, and uh-oh. Both of Gabe’s parents turned to see what he was looking at. It would have been comical if Nash’s warning of dragons didn’t run through her head.

  Their eyes went wide and then a smile broke out on his mother’s face. “You didn’t tell me you had a date. Was it a date?” she asked Gabe suddenly.

  “Yes,” Gabe said, and his mother practically shoved him out of the way to get to Sloane before he could say another word.

  Sloane knew in that moment what a trapped animal felt like as this elegant woman in jeans, flip-flops, and diamonds zeroed in on her.

  “Mom,” Gabe’s warning came as he hurried in her wake.

  His
mother stopped in front of her, and Sloane knew she was taking in her consignment clothes, her worn shoes, and the fact she’d never be able to afford even a chip of the diamond earring his mom was wearing. “Are you a hooker?”

  “Mom!”

  Sloane’s eyes shot to Gabe’s in panic, but his father moved to block him from getting to her. “Um, no.”

  “Escort?”

  “Isn’t that the same thing? No, I’m not.”

  “Actress?”

  “No.”

  His mother rolled her eyes. “Singer then.”

  “No.”

  “You’re not a model are you?”

  “No.”

  “Please tell me you’re not a porn star.”

  Sloane gasped as Gabe roared, “Mother!”

  “I’m a waitress, and I am graduating with my master’s degree next week,” Sloane finally stuttered. His mother and father took a deep breath. Sloane forced herself to keep eye contact. She would not be ashamed of who she was.

  “Do you keep your clothes on when you waitress?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh thank goodness!” his mother cried as she launched herself at Sloane. Before she knew it, Sloane was wrapped in a tight hug.

  “I believe you have effectively welcomed her to the family, my dear,” Gabe’s father said softly with amusement laced in his smooth voice. “However, I believe introductions are in order.”

  His mother finally released Sloane and smiled warmly at her. How long would that last though? Sloane looked to Nash whose face was unreadable. Would he tell them about her? Of course he would. It was his job.

  “I’m Dani, Gabe’s mother. And this is his father, Mo,” Dani introduced as Mo shook her hand.

  “Sloane Holiday. It’s nice to meet you both. Um, what do I call you? I’m sorry, I’m sure there’s some royal protocol, but I didn’t learn about your family until a few minutes ago.”

  Dani looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. “I bet that was quite a shock.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sloane answered, settling on just calling her that. Ma’am and sir never went out of style.

 

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