Forever Concealed Read online

  “Dani, please. And Mo. I was a paralegal when I met Mo, so I understand the strangeness of the situation.”

  Sloane was about to say something with the doorbell rang again and Nash simply pressed a button.

  “We’d be honored if you would join us for dinner tonight,” Mo told her. “Unless you have family in town for your graduation. Of course, they are invited, too.”

  “Thank you,” Sloane said not really knowing what to say. The elevator opened and a shockingly beautiful woman ran down the hall in scrubs. She had long black hair pulled into a ponytail and hazel eyes that looked like a green field with wheat in it. It was such a surprising eye and hair combination that Sloane realized she was staring.

  “Gabe! I got the text. Are you okay?” The woman wrapped her arms around him in such a familiar and intimate way that jealousy surged through Sloane and surprised her.

  “I’m fine. We both are.”

  “We?”

  Not again. Sloane looked to Nash who held up two fingers. Dragon number two.

  The hazel eyes scanned the room and locked in on her. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Sloane Holiday. Who are you?”

  “Oh, honey. I like her!” Dani whispered excitedly to Mo.

  “At least this one can form a complete sentence,” the woman with hazel eyes said, clearly taunting her.

  “What kind of women do you date?” Sloane asked Gabe instead of responding to the young woman.

  Gabe cleared his throat and looked a little uncomfortable.

  “Bimbos,” the woman responded for him.

  The doorbell chimed again and Gabe looked annoyed. “Who got this text?” he asked as he tossed up his hands in frustration.

  “Everyone in town. Duh,” the young woman said, crossing her arms over her chest and staring Sloane down.

  “How did they all know I was here?” Gabe asked looking at his parents who just shrugged before he looked at Nash. “You’re fired.”

  Nash smiled at that, and Sloane openly stared. The man was as handsome as he was dangerous.

  “Don’t even think about it. He’s married to my cousin.”

  Sloane rounded on the woman with black hair but instead of just her, there was now another woman running toward Gabe. This one was a curvy redhead. “Oh my gosh, Gabe! Are you hurt? Did they catch who did this?”

  Behind her stood two men—one who looked to be around Dani and Mo’s age, and one who looked to be in his forties—came walking in. The older one had brown hair with gray at the temples and a square jaw that looked intimidating on someone so tall. The other man was thicker, as if he worked out a lot. Sloane looked closer, they were both wearing shirts with a horsehead on it. They must work together.

  “We’re fine,” Gabe said as the redhead released him from his hug. What was going on? Were these his harem, or women who just didn’t like the new girl? Well, one thing was clear. Sloane wasn’t about to share Gabe with them or anyone else. If Gabe didn’t like that, she’d walk out right now.

  Sloane looked back to Nash who held up three, four, and then five fingers. Sloane rolled her eyes.

  “We?” the three newcomers said at the same time.

  “Yeah, there’s a new bimbo,” the woman with black hair said, dismissing Sloane.

  “Layne,” the redhead chided. “Be nice. You don’t even know her, and she’s just gone through something traumatic.” The woman shook her head and headed for Ryan. Ryan leaned down and kissed her quickly before wrapping his arm around her. Ah, the wife.

  “I’m Sienna Parker and this rude woman is Layne Davies.” Layne just stared unremorsefully, and Sloane didn’t bother giving her the smile she’d given Sienna. “And this is my father, Will Ashton, and our friend Trey Everett.”

  Sloane blinked. “Oh my gosh, the football players from Lexington? The guys at the bar where I waitress at talk about you two all the time.”

  “We’re all from Keeneston, actually. And we’re retired football players. Though I think I enjoyed playing more than I do owning the team,” Will joked as he shook her hand.

  “And I’m just Coach now,” Trey told her, shaking her hand next. “Where do you work?”

  “Billy’s Bar,” Sloane said, dropping Trey’s hand and looking around the living room. This was a parallel universe. It’s the only explanation to find herself standing in a room with two kinds of royalty—the foreign ruling type and the American sports variety.

  “We’ll stop by sometime after practice. That is, if they talk nicely about us,” Will joked.

  “I’m sure they’d lose their minds.” Sloane returned his smile.

  “At least she’s not another actress.” Layne rolled her eyes at Sienna.

  “Layne,” Sienna hissed. “Sorry. Gabe’s past girlfriends haven’t been as nice as you are.”

  The doorbell rang again and Gabe groaned. “Please tell me the entire town hasn’t shown up.”

  “So sorry we came to check on our friend,” Layne said with displeasure, though it was clear to Sloane she had great affection for Gabe. Maybe too much affection?

  “Yeah, and it doesn’t hurt that all of us work minutes from here and can lord it over the Rose sisters,” Trey winked. “I’m glad you’re both unhurt. What happened?”

  The door opened and Detective Braxton walked in. She paused momentarily in surprise at the full room, but then waded into the fray.

  “Detective!” Sienna called out happily as she came over to the detective. “It’s good to see you again, but not under these circumstances.”

  “You too, Dr. Parker.” Detective Braxton turned to Nash and handed him some papers. “The men are booked, and you’re welcome to interview them. However, I think you’ll be disappointed. There are no ties to this King Draven or to the country of Bermalia.”

  “Then who are they?” Gabe asked as he moved to slip his arm around Sloane’s waist. She was already leaning into him before she caught herself. She still hadn’t decided if she had forgiven him or not. Seeing everyone interact, one thing was clear—his family was more normal than hers, even if they were royalty. They loved each other, they had friends who cared about them, and they weren’t pretentious. In fact, they were great. They were loyal and not once had anyone mentioned an official title. The only thing that worried her was Gabe’s obviously bad track record of dating. Who in the hell had he dated that they had to ask her if she was a hooker or an actress?

  “They’re street-level thugs from Chicago,” Detective Braxton told them.

  Sloane felt her world shift. Gabe’s arm tightened around her as her knees went weak. They’d found her.

  12

  Gabe felt Sloane stop breathing. Her whole body stiffened before her knees went out. Gabe tightened his hold on her to prevent her from falling as her eyes darted wildly around the room as if calculating her escape. Nash stepped forward and stopped right in front of Sloane.

  “It’s time to tell them. You’ll be okay. I promise,” he said softly, forcing Sloane to look at him.

  Though Gabe tried to get Nash to look at him, Nash kept his eyes locked with Sloane’s. She’d finally started breathing again, but her breaths were short and shallow. She gave a slight nod of her head, and Detective Braxton moved to stand next to Nash.

  “Go ahead,” Nash said gently. “Tell them why your parents would send someone to kidnap you.”

  Gabe blinked. Her parents?

  Sloane swallowed so loudly Gabe could hear it. Her entire body was trembling and Gabe feared she’d fall down. “Come on, let’s take a seat and you can tell me about it.” Gabe had to pull her to the couch, but then her legs buckled and she fell onto the seat.

  “It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m right here,” Gabe said softly, taking a seat next to her. His family and friends wisely stayed back, except for Nash, Detective Braxton, and Ryan. Their law enforcement radar was going crazy.

  Sloane shook her head. “No, it won’t be okay,” she said through chattering teeth.

  Gabe put his arm a
round her and pulled her lifeless body against his in hopes of warming her. “Start at the beginning. Who are your parents?”

  “Shane and Lisa Malone,” she whispered. No one said anything. They didn’t need to. The Malone family was as well known as any mobsters had ever been. Shane and his even more violent and ruthless wife, Lisa, were the most wanted drug lords in the country. They always managed to keep their hands clean enough to avoid jail. The government had been trying to bring them down for decades.

  “Tell us about your parents. I don’t remember them having a daughter named Sloane. What happened?” Detective Braxton coaxed. No doubt if she got something on the Malone family, she’d run straight up the political ladder. Gabe pushed the thought from his mind. This was about Sloane, not Braxton.

  “My name was Chanel,” Sloane whispered. She hadn’t said that name in nine years.

  “But, Chanel died,” Braxton said, causing the people in the room to murmur.

  “It’s Sloane now. I’d better start at the beginning. My parents grew up in the Riverdale neighborhood of Chicago—the worst of the worst. They fell in love when they were fifteen. My father worked for the local drug lord, selling cocaine and other drugs in his school. My grandparents didn’t care, since that meant they didn’t have to work. My mother approached him to see if he needed a partner. Her mother had overdosed, and her father was a long-haul trucker. She basically raised herself,” Sloane told them. Gabe looked at her. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused as she told them about her past.

  “At eighteen my father decided to challenge his aging boss. I don’t know what happened exactly, but the boss was found dead in the Little Calumet River, and my father took control of the Riverdale drug operation. My sister, Valentina, was born first. My parents were only twenty, but they were now some of the wealthiest people in our neighborhood. It was then they decided to change the name of the organization to Malone Family Enterprises. Normally, drugs east of the Mississippi are imported from Central America. However, Mexico is where the good stuff is. They made a deal with the head of the cartel to be the exclusive East Coast distributor of their drugs. By the time I was born, we were living forty-five minutes from Riverdale in a historic mansion in Lincoln Park. But the business was run out of a warehouse in Riverdale.”

  “Why did you leave?” Detective Braxton asked.

  “I had to. My mother . . . well, she was in charge of enforcement. My sister is just like her. My father wanted to focus on bigger and better drugs. He let them have free rein of the business side of the organization. I worked for them from the time I was eight years old. I knew every general in the organization. I knew where every stash house was. I knew what they cut the drugs with. I knew it all because they made me work. They thought it was cute to show off their daughters working the family business when the cartel visited. But even then, I knew it was wrong. I made the mistake at ten years old of telling my sister this was hurting people. She told my mother, who in return beat me so badly I couldn’t walk for two weeks.”

  Gabe heard his mother suck in a sob. Anger, sadness, and relief that Sloane had escaped filled him.

  “I learned to keep quiet then. I was told to sell the drugs at my very expensive private school when I turned thirteen. They said it was a family tradition. I would be given ten thousand dollars or more worth of product and head off to school. However, I couldn’t do it. The regular beatings I got, and the fact I was starved if I didn’t sell the drugs, drew the attention of my chemistry teacher, Mrs. Holiday. I confided in her one afternoon. Instead of calling the police, we hatched a plan. We knew some of the police were on my mom’s payroll, and I wouldn’t be safe. Instead, I sold fake drugs to the students. They were loaded with caffeine, but no more than in a couple of cups of coffee. The kids felt the high and were more worried about appearing cool than the actual use of drugs. They paid, so the beatings stopped.”

  Sloane took a deep breath. “I began to worry as graduation grew closer. I talked to Mrs. Holiday about it. My parents were already planning to move my operation to college. My sister was in law school and selling so steadily that she lived on the Upper East Side of New York City instead of some small apartment like most students. That’s when we decided I needed to disappear forever but I couldn’t do it until I was eighteen for legal reasons. When I turned eighteen, I could head straight for the courts and change my name without my parents being notified. Mrs. Holiday went into the computer system and printed off my transcripts with the new name I’d selected so I could enroll in college. And at 12:01 on the dot, I snuck out of the house with nothing but my purse. I left everything I had ever known. I sent a vague text to my sister telling her goodbye. I drove my car to Lake Michigan and left a suicide note inside it. There was a little pier and I jumped off it, into the water. I still remember how dark it was. I swam out a short way and tossed my flip-flops as far out as I could. Then I started the long swim parallel to the beach until I couldn’t swim anymore. I chose a dark place with no cameras to come ashore. And I started walking. I met Mrs. Holiday about two more miles away. We drove to Springfield where her son was a judge. I changed my name the next morning. Mrs. Holiday bought me some clothes, and I went to the DMV. I lied and said I had just moved to town and provided false information to obtain a driver’s license under my new name. Will I be arrested for that?”

  “No, you won’t,” Detective Braxton assured her. “What happened next?”

  Sloane nodded and let out a deep breath as if that was what she was most worried about. “Then I took what money I had and bought a bus ticket. The farthest I could go was Lexington. In the meantime, my sister had immediately called my parents, who went looking for my car. One of their soldiers found it a day later along with a washed up flip-flop that my parents recognized as mine. Search and Rescue found the other one way out in the lake after a storm. It was determined I drowned and my body had been washed out into the lake. A couple of weeks later, I saw that the search for my body was called off and my death had been ruled a suicide. I never looked back after that. I thought I was safe.”

  “Why would your parents want to kill you after finding you again?” Gabe finally asked.

  Sloane lifted her eyes to his. “Because I took something when I left.”

  “What did you take?” Gabe reached out and took her hands in his. He felt her take a deep shuddering breath.

  “I think I need a lawyer first.”

  Gabe felt someone come to stand behind him. “That’s a good idea, dear,” his mother said to her gently. “I sent a text to our attorneys the second you told us your name. They’ll be here shortly. In the meantime, why don’t we make a cup of tea? You’re shaking, you poor dear.”

  Sloane’s face was set in stone, but her eyes told it all. She was ashamed. She was embarrassed. She was scared. And Gabe hated knowing she felt that way. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her.

  Finally he saw emotion as a tear leaked down her face. “Stop saying that. It will not be okay.”

  * * *

  Sloane jumped to her feet and looked down at the man who could hurt her more than her parents ever could. The man she had slowly been losing her heart to over the past weeks. Every small conversation at the bar, every smile he gave her, and every flirtation . . . she was stupid to dream of a happily-ever-after.

  “It will not be okay,” she repeated. “Even if my parents manage not to kill me, and even if I somehow don’t spend the rest of my life in jail, I’m still just a waitress whose parents are drug lords, and you’re still a prince.”

  “It doesn’t matter—” Gabe started to say, but it hurt too much to hear it.

  “It does!” Sloane yelled. “You think your father, who has been quietly standing over there, will support an heir to the Rahmi crown marrying the Princess of Heroin?

  Quietly Gabe’s father pushed himself off the wall and stared her down as he walked toward her. “Don’t presume to know me, Miss Holiday.”

  “Don’t you mean, Malone?”

 
Mo shook his head slowly. “You were never a Malone. That much is clear to me. You are who you say you are, Sloane Holiday. A waitress and a student who is gradating with a master’s degree. And if you care for my son, truly care for him, not for the money or the title, then I wouldn’t care who your parents were. But if this is a con—”

  The threat went unspoken. His highness didn’t need to speak the words, for the threat was perfectly clear, and she believed him.

  “Father,” Gabe warned, but the sound of the doorbell had Sloane wanting to roll her eyes. It was a circus, and she was the main attraction.

  “Sloane,” Gabe whispered as if he didn’t have much time, “I’m proud of you.”

  “Who’s my client?”

  Sloane looked at the tall man and young woman walking into the room and blinked. They were not exactly what she was expecting when the princess said she’d called their personal lawyers. The man had to be in his mid-fifties and his suit appeared to be shiny. Yes, somehow it was iridescent and appeared to change color as he walked into the light from the windows. The young woman looked to be fresh out of law school and very well put together, but Sloane was confused by the spray bottle she was carrying.

  “I am,” Sloane said hesitantly.

  The man’s eyes went to hers. “I can see why you’ve been arrested. It’s against the law for one person to look so fine.”

  Squirt.

  The young woman squirted the man in the ear. He tilted his head and began shaking his head while hopping up and down on one foot.

  “Is this a joke?” Sloane asked Gabe.

  “No, this is just Henry,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “You’ll grow to love him.”

  “I’ll grow to kick him in the balls.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first, dear,” Gabe’s mom chuckled.

  “I’m sorry about my father’s choice of words, but he is a good attorney. I’m Addison Rooney and this is my father, Henry Rooney. Now, is there someplace we can talk privately?”