Page 42 of Creatures in the Night

“Then you’ll be thanking the Russians for their hospitality by kicking off a war because you refuse to see the truth that’s right in front of you,” he practically snapped. “Now, if you think that your life is worth the loss of many others, then so be it.” He leaned in closer across the table. “As far as I’m concerned, any reason to take out our enemies is a good one. However, keep in mind that you’re my wife. So, if you think that the Russians won’t use you to get to me, you’re very wrong, baby.”

Even if it was the truth, I knew that he was manipulating me, and I hated how easily he could do it. Obviously, my life wasn’t more important than countless others, but I also had no desire to be a martyr, which was exactly what I’d be if I went back home with him.

“And what truth is that, Mr. Murphy?” I spat. “Because I know what I heard.”

“That I fucking love you,” he growled, making my head rear back in shock. “If you’d stop your fucking pity party for just one goddamn second, you’d feel it every single time that I’m buried deep inside you. You’d hear it every single time that I call you my wife. You’d recognize it by how I’m in Kotov fucking territory to get you back.”

I refused to believe him because the alternative was insane. There was no way that Noah Murphy was in love with me, and even if he was, I still heard what I heard. He was behind the hit on me, and he was using the oldest trick in the book to make me come to heel. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t one of those women that only felt fulfilled if they had a husband and family to round out their lives. I was about as independent as they came, so those three flowery words weren’t going to work on me.

“That’s low,” I scoffed. “Even for you.”

He looked like he was carved from stone as I threw his words in his face. “Get up, Shea,” he ordered. “We’re leaving, and if you give me any trouble, I swear to God on my life, it’ll be the last thing that you ever do.”

Before I could say anything to that, another shadow fell over the table, and when I looked up, Ivan was grinning down at us, though his eyes were reflecting something else. “How was the meal, dorogaya devushka?” he asked.

“I understand Russian, Ivan,” Noah said as he stood up to face the man. “You’ll address my wife as Mrs. Murphy.”

“But she and I are friends,” he said, refusing to back down. “Maksim said to take good care of her, and so I did.”

As hate radiated off Noah in waves, I realized that he’d been right about everything. There was no way that I was going to spit in the face of the Russians’ hospitality by allowing something bigger to develop, and I was going to have to leave with my husband willingly, then tell him the truth. My life wasn’t worth a war, no matter how I might feel about going back with Noah.

I grabbed Ivan’s jacket, then stood up from the booth. Handing it to him, I said, “Thank you so much for everything that you did for me, Ivan. I…I could have found myself in some real trouble had you not come along, and I’m very grateful for that.”

“And are you certain that you no longer need my assistance?” he asked cordially enough, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines, and if a war ever popped off between the O’Briens and the Kotovs, it wasn’t going to be because of me.

“I’m fine, Ivan,” I lied. “Thank you, though.”

Ivan gave me a single nod as he said, “Very well.”

Before anything more could be said, Noah was removing his jacket, then placing it over my shoulders. It felt warm and smelled like him, and my pride wanted to rip it off my body. With every second that went by without me fighting him, I felt like I was giving in, and I hated that feeling. While there were a lot of women out there that were comfortable in the role of victim, I wasn’t one of them.

After one last look at Ivan, I felt Noah’s hand on the small of my back, and I knew that there was no more putting it off any longer. I’d also rather deal with what had happened than discuss Noah’s declaration of love, even if that made me a coward of sorts. Again, I didn’t believe him, but it’d be easy to when he said it with so much emotion and anger in his voice.

Once we got in the car, the driver immediately said, “Thank fucking God. My trigger finger was getting itchy.”

“Shea Murphy meet Cathal O’Brien,” Noah drawled out as the car pulled away from the curb.

“I’m the youngest O’Brien,” he remarked cheerfully. I watched as his blue eyes slid towards the rearview mirror. “I would have met you at your wedding had any of us been invited.”

“Will ye give it a rest, lad?” Noah huffed.

“No,” Cathal answered. “It was rude not to invite us.”

“Fecking Christ.”

“Well, it was,” the youngest O’Brien insisted.

Instead of going more rounds with Cathal O’Brien, Noah turned to look at me. “Are you tired?”

“What do you think?” I snapped. “I worked twelve hours yesterday, then got shot twice, had to be patched up, then instead of letting me rest in the hospital, you dragged me home to guess which one of your men was going to try to take me out next.”

“Shea-”

“Then, because my husband would rather be widowed than divorced, I was forced to have to escape, only to end up lost with no money, ID, or even a goddamn jacket. I’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours after all that shit, and after finally getting something to eat…yeah, I’m tired, Mr. Murphy.”

Cathal let out a low whistle that Noah didn’t appreciate. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What? Who? Me?”

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