Page 35 of Creatures in the Night

I watched Noah let out a deep breath as he calmly slid his hands in his pockets, trying to make himself seem less of a threat to me, but I knew better. Everyone in this garage knew better than to underestimate Noah Murphy, which was probably why his men agreed to lower their guns to begin with.

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice even, ignoring my earlier demand. “What do you think you know?”

“Everything,” I repeated. “I know everything. I heard them talking, and if you think that I’m going to just sit back and let you guys come for me again, then you’re wrong.” I inched towards where my car was parked. “Now, tell your men to get out of my way, Mr. Murphy.”

“I can’t do that, lass,” he replied, his voice still eerily calm.

“If you think that I won’t kill you, you’re wrong,” I warned.

His chin went up, his eyes regarding me like a predator ready to go in for the attack. “I can’t let you leave, Shea,” he repeated. “That’s not how this works.”

“It’s how this works now,” I argued.

“No, it’s not,” he argued back. “So, put the gun down and let’s talk about this.”

“Why would I want to do that?” I sneered.

“Because you’re my wife!” he roared, his hands out of his pockets, fisting at his sides. “Because you’re my fucking wife!”

Ignoring that nonsense, I said, “You don’t get to become a widower to get rid of your unwanted wife, Mr. Murphy. So, tell your men to move aside, then file for divorce when you can, and then we can all just move the hell on with our lives.”

He looked murderous as he repeated his earlier statement. “I will never be divorced, lass. Never.”

“Nor will you ever be a widower if I can help it,” I snapped back. “Now, move out of my way, or so help me God, I will shoot you, Mr. Murphy.”

“If you shoot me, my men will kill you, Shea,” he replied, trying to appeal to my inner fear. Little did he know that I was out of my mind with desperation and not fear at the moment.

“Good,” I practically snarled. “Given the choice, I’d rather see it coming than have to look over my shoulder every second of the day.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means!” he thundered.

“Move out of my way!” I yelled back.

“I can’t,” he hissed. “I cannot let you leave, lass.”

I arched a brow. “Afraid that I might tell everyone what happened? Afraid that The O’Brien might find out the truth?”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, but make no mistake, Shea,” he bit out. “I have no reason to fear my cousin, nor will I ever have a reason to.”

The O’Brien knew.

I felt like an even bigger fool than before for actually thinking that Declan didn’t know about Noah’s plans to get rid of me. Of course, he’d know. After all, they were family, and it’d been stupid to think that they wouldn’t have each other’s backs. They were going to get my parents’ shop without the baggage that came with it; me.

Taking another step towards my car, I cocked the gun to show them that I meant business. “I’m leaving, Mr. Murphy.”

“No, lass,” he replied. “You’re not.”

Chapter 23

Noah~

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, because even if I ordered my men to leave, if Shea shot me, then Declan would go after her without hesitation. If I didn’t allow Shea to leave, then she could very well end up dead anyways because she wasn’t lying about shooting me.

Now, while I wasn’t overly worried about her leaving per se, I was concerned with her vague accusations. No matter where she ran off to, I had no doubt that I could find her, even if I had to use her parents to do it, which I wasn’t above doing. So, it wasn’t her getting away that was the problem, so much as why she was running away. She kept making references to not letting me become a widower and having to look over her shoulder, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce where that was coming from. Shea believed that I was behind the attempt on her life, and she believed it because of what she’d overheard, and I needed that information more than I needed to take my next breath.

I also hadn’t been lying when I’d told her that I would never be divorced. Even if Shea never came to love me like a wife should, we’d never be divorced. I might not have a choice in letting her run away right now, but I’d drag her back by her motherfucking hair before ever filing for divorce. We were forever, whether she liked it or not.

“Shea, tell me what you overheard,” I ordered, even though it was futile.

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