Inevitable Disclosure

Inevitable Disclosure Valor and Doyle Book Four Nicky James Copyright I nevitable Disclosure Copyright © 2023 by Nicky James This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Cover Artist: Natasha Snow Designs Cover Model Akshay Bhadu CJC Photography Editing: Susie Selva All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author. Contents Prologue 1. Aslan 2. Quaid 3. Aslan 4. Quaid 5. Aslan 6. Quaid 7. Aslan 8. Quaid 9. Aslan 10. Quaid 11. Quaid 12. Quaid 13. Aslan 14. Quaid 15. Aslan 16. Aslan 17. Quaid 18. Aslan 19. Quaid 20. Aslan 21. Quaid 22. Aslan 23. Quaid 24. Aslan 25. Aslan 26. Quaid 27. Aslan 28. Quaid 29. Quaid 30. Aslan 31. Quaid 32. Aslan 33. Quaid 34. Aslan 35. Aslan 36. Aslan 37. Aslan 38. Quaid 39. Quaid Note from the Author Dear Readers, Need more romantic suspense? More from Nicky James Prologue Aslan I’ve worked with the Metropolitan Toronto Police Service for twenty years, nine of those as a homicide detective. Not once have I fired my gun while on duty. There have been several instances when I’ve pulled it and been ready should a situation escalate, but it never has. Until today. Not only did I discharge my weapon, but I killed someone. I didn’t mean for them to die. I didn’t want them to die, but sometimes, those things are beyond a person’s control. I may never be the same again. Chapter 1 Aslan Two Weeks Earlier “Shit! My alarm didn’t go off. Why didn’t my alarm go off? I set it. I know I set it. Dammit.” Quaid flicked on the bedside lamp and threw himself out of bed. Harsh spears of light pierced my retinas. “Where are my clothes?” I groaned and squinted against the sudden assault, glaring at my high-strung boyfriend as he spun in place and scanned the floor, naked as the day he was born. His wheat-blond hair stood on end, and a pillow crease marked his left cheek. With a frenetic energy leaching from his pores, he snapped, “Seriously, Az, where are my underwear? They’re gone.” “I put your clothes in the wash after you fell asleep because you don’t have extras here, even though I’ve told you a hundred times you can have a spot in my closet so this kind of thing doesn’t happen. I would think the idea of keeping clothes at my house would appeal to you. It’s one step closer to moving in together, which we both know you’d love, yet you seem to be adamantly ignoring the suggestion.” “Did they get put in the dryer?” “What? No. Quaid, are you listening to me?” He pursed his lips but refused to acknowledge my comment. He was listening. He had been listening for months, but fear lived inside him. Fear that I said those things to appease him, not because I meant them. We were getting there. Slowly. “I have to leave for work, and now I have nothing to wear. Shit.” He tugged a hand through his hair. “I need to run home, but I don’t have time now.” “No, you don’t need to run home. You need to get your ass back in bed and cuddle me.” “But I—” “Cuddle me, dammit. I demand cuddles. It’s ten after four in the morning. You don’t have to be anywhere except in bed. With me. Now. End of story.” I held the covers open, inviting him to join me. Quaid sneered, which was nothing more than a default expression I was used to seeing on my easily irritable and overanxious boyfriend’s face. “Quaid, you know I’m right. Give in to the desire. I might even suck your dick if you stop making the face.” “You love the face.” “Guilty. I’ll suck your dick because you’re making the face. How about that? Come to bed.” “I don’t understand why my alarm didn’t go off?” “Oh, good grief. Because after I put your clothes in the wash, I reset it for seven.” His eyes widened and jaw dropped. Incredulity stole his ability to respond with full sentences. “You…What…Why would you do that?” “Relax. You don’t need to be in the office at five in the morning.” “I have a teenage girl who’s been missing for six days and no partner right now. Edwards gave me this case reluctantly. I had to beg. I don’t like begging. If he thinks for one second I’m incapable of running it alone, he will assign it to someone else. Worse yet, he’ll find me a new partner. I don’t want a new partner, Az. I want Eden back.” It was almost a whine. “I know.” But that didn’t look promising. Eden had gone on leave three weeks ago when her daughter’s health took a bad turn, and there was no telling when or if she was coming back. “Nothing about the case will change in two or three hours. Trust me. You need sleep. Come back to bed.” He crossed his arms, a storm of indecision filling his face as he continued to scowl and think. Always thinking. He knew I was right, but he couldn’t admit it. “She’s a runaway, Quaid. You said so yourself.” “It’s likely, but still, I can’t prove it. What if she isn’t? I’m starting to wonder.” “Even if she’s not, a couple more hours of rest changes nothing. Wouldn’t you rather Edwards see you fresh and sharp and working the case with a clear head instead of sleep-deprived and frantic?” A flash of defeat crossed his baby blues, and his shoulders came down an inch. I patted the mattress beside me. “Come on. Sleep.” “I’m not tired anymore.” “Quaid.” I gave him the stern,