Chapter 13

Noah~

I couldn't remember ever being this fucking enraged, and it was still blowing my mind that the reason was my wife. I had underestimated Shea, and I hated that particular error in judgement. Having been raised in our family all my life, that was the one thing that we'd been taught from the crib, and we'd been doing it with Klive Simpson, and now I was doing it with my wife.

When I'd gotten home to find her missing, I'd never felt that level of anger before, and that was saying something, considering. We were third-generation O'Briens and Murphys, so we'd always known the score, even when we'd been young. So, being raised around violent men, I was used to taking things in stride; never getting worked up over shit that could easily be solved with a bullet. Honestly, only threats to my family had ever been able to get me worked up, and I was man enough to admit that I wasn't comfortable with these newfound emotions that I seemed to keep feeling in regard to my wife.

My anger was also struggling to coexist with how proud I was of her for calling my bluff. Apart from my mam and Keavy, no woman had ever done that before, and a strong woman was definitely more appealing than a weak one. My preferences in women were quickly shifting from blondes to stubborn brunettes, and one of these days, I knew that I was going to have to thank my cousin for his insight.

Being who I was, it hadn't been an issue breaking into Shea's condo, and while I'd been waiting for her, I had searched the place from top to bottom, and there really hadn't been much to it. Shea was a minimalist, and apart from a few pictures of her, her parents, and her co-workers, she didn't have much clutter. Her neat and tidy lifestyle was going to go a long way with getting her moved to our place faster, and she was definitely going to have to leave the furniture behind or donate it.

When I heard the door unlock, I stood up to walk around the couch, leaning up against the back, waiting for my bride to come inside. At first, I hadn't believed her about leaving work, but almost an hour later, she was walking through her front door, and to her credit, she wasn't a liar."

As soon as she saw me, she froze, and when her dark eyes finally registered who I was, she said, "I waited until they found someone to cover the rest of the shift."

I didn't say anything as she turned to lock the door behind her, and it wasn't until she flipped the light switch on that Declan's earlier words resonated in my head. The rims of her eyes were red, and though I couldn't know if the tears had been from rage, sadness, or despair, no one could argue that Shea had shed a few between work and here.

I didn't like it.

"What did you tell them at work?" I asked, wanting to know what I was working with here.

She tossed her purse on the couch as she said, "I just said that I couldn't finish my shift."

I eyed her as she remained at the edge of the couch, not taking any more steps closer to me. "They didn't ask why?"

"No," she answered, and if she was telling the truth, then that's when the tears had probably started. For her boss not to ask any questions, then they had to assume it was an emergency of some sort for her to need to leave.

"Come here, lass," I ordered, the feeling in my chest pissing me off something fierce.

"No," she replied, and she was either too tired to know what she was doing, or she wanted out of this marriage enough to act suicidal.

"I will not tell you again," I said.

"For what?" she asked stubbornly. "What more could you possibly want from me, Mr. Murphy? I mean, seriously, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just get some sleep before I have to type out my resignation letter in the morning."

Christ.

"Quit calling me Mr. Murphy," I ordered. "I mean it, lass."

"Or else what?" she dared. "You're going to divorce me? Kill me? Ruin my career?"

"I told you that you could finish your shift," I reminded her. "All you had to do was call me by my name."

"For what?" she shot back. "Why on earth would I keep my job now? So that you can continue to manipulate me with it?" Her back straightened, and the woman really was full of fire. "I'd rather quit with the little dignity that I have left than allow you to ruin my professional reputation by throwing your weight around."

"Come. Here," I repeated, angry that I wasn't able to ignore her the way that I had planned.

"Or what?!" she yelled.

I was on her before she could even blink. Since she was a wee thing, it took not even a fraction of my strength to push her up against the wall, my right hand wrapped around her neck, the left one gripping her hip, pinning her to the painted drywall. Her dark eyes rounded, but that was because we both knew that it wouldn't take much for me to snap her in two, and the way that I was feeling right now, that wasn't off the fucking table.

"I think you've forgotten who you're speaking to, lass," I told her. "You're daring me like there aren't things a lot far worse than death, or like I don't know how to exact those horrible things. So, if I were you, I'd get my shit under control before I show you a side to your husband that no sane person would ever want to see."

I was so close to snapping her neck that I let her go before taking a step back, giving her some space. This was not how I had envisioned my wedding night, and I sure as fuck hadn't ever expected Shea to be so damn combative. Not for nothing, our reputations weren't exaggerations, and we were a bloody lot, so I had counted on that to control the woman, but it wasn't working so far.

Choosing to pick her battles, she said, "I just want some sleep."

"Well, you're not getting any," I informed her. "In case you've forgotten, this is my wedding night."

Her entire body froze, her eyes rounding for another reason now. "Wh…what?"

That's when I really saw red.

That's when I really had become a danger to her.

During all the fighting, I hadn't paid close enough attention to what she'd been about, so I hadn't noticed how she wasn't wearing her wedding rings, and the anger that I'd been feeling earlier was nothing compared to the absolute fury that was coursing through my veins now, and I wasn't equipped to deal with emotions this intense.

Doing my best to get my rage under control, I asked, "Where are your wedding rings, Shea?"

"In my purse," she answered evenly. "We're not allowed to wear jewelry if we're covering an ER shift. We might not have the time to take them off if we've got a life-or-death situation."

"You wear gloves," I pointed out, my vision still red as a knife wound.

I saw her jaw tick, and I really wanted to fucking kill her when she lifted her chin. "Yes, we do," she replied haughtily. "However, with a stone as large as the one that you picked out, there's a good chance of it ripping the latex, forcing me to have to put on a fresh pair, therefore, wasting valuable time."

"Get them out of your purse and put them back on," I ordered. "Now."

To my surprise, she did. Neither of us spoke a word as she fished them out of her purse, then slid them back on her ring finger. What surprised me the most was the sense of relief that flooded my chest at seeing them back on her finger. She was my wife, and even though it was clear that we were not on the same page, I was going to have to remedy that quickly if I didn't want to end up killing her with my bare hands.

Once the rings were back on her finger, I said, "You have permission to take the solitaire off at work, but the band stays on. If you ever take it off again, I'll have Lochlan surgically attach both rings to your finger."

"Well, that won't be a problem since I'm quitting on Sunday," she replied coolly. "Any other orders that you want to throw out there?"

Declan's words were back, and it bothered me how bothered I was by her unhappiness. She was going to quit her job, so that I couldn't use it against her in the future, and that was going to leave her with nothing. She could always go work with her parents, but it was only a matter of time before the store ended up belonging to Declan, so I couldn't see her choosing that for herself. Declan had told me about their conversation at my parents' house, and there really wasn't anything that Shea didn't know, including how I used to prefer blondes with big tits.

"And if I gave you my word that I'll never use your job to manipulate you again?" I posed.

Her coffee-colored eyes started to water, and I felt it like a kick to my chest, these motherfucking emotions coming out of nowhere. I wasn't used to caring about anything apart from my family, and whatever sorcery that Shea Burke possessed, it was the real deal.

"Then I'd think that you must really believe I'm stupid to believe anything that you'd ever tell me," she replied, forcing her tears back. "And I'm not stupid."

No, she wasn't.

She wasn't, and that was going to be a problem.