Chapter 22

Shea~

A s we pulled into the underground garage, my mind raced with my options. I honestly hadn't expected on Noah's insistence that I go home with him, but I should have. It'd make sense that he'd want to control the narrative since he'd been the one that had ordered my hit. He'd want to make sure that he was present when the police questioned me, and he'd also want to speak with Craig as soon as he could without me around. My parents also hadn't been any help when they had agreed that I should go home with Noah.

When Dr. Younger had rushed me into the hospital, he'd been quick to explain my injuries and what I could expect from surgery. At the time, he hadn't known that the bullet had gone through my arm, but it'd been my bleeding skull that had been the priority. When they had put me out, I'd had no idea if I was going to live or die, but I'd been expecting to remain in the hospital long enough to come up with a plan that wouldn't end up with my parents dead. What had also surprised me was how Noah hadn't insisted on seeing Craig first. I'd been sure that he'd want to find out what happened before talking to me, so that he could cover his tracks until he could try to kill me again.

The worst of it had been how Noah had acted so concerned upon seeing me in that hospital bed. His turquoise gaze had been filled with so much concern, but that show of concern had been for the staff. He hadn't even attempted to correct me when I'd pointed out how everyone knew that he didn't care about me, so how could it be personal? Of course, we both knew that he'd just been trying to deflect since he'd been the one to order the hit, but still.

Though fatigue was still kicking my ass, I played it up to give myself some more time to figure out what to do. I made sure to take my time walking towards the elevator, and if Noah picked me up to carry me, I wouldn't be surprised. Still, no one said a word as we slowly made our way across the parking garage, six O'Brien guards keeping watch, even though we were considered safely tucked away in a secured building.

When my car caught my eye, that's when I realized that I had only one option here. If I was going to get out of here, then I needed a car, and I remembered Noah saying that my car would be stored in the garage with the keys in it. Yeah, I might be giving them the chance to just shoot me dead, but it was better than looking over my shoulder every second of the day, wondering when they'd come for me next. I'd rather take my chances now than live in that kind of state of paranoia.

I stopped, placing my hands on my thighs, pretending to need a moment. When I felt Noah's arm reach around my waist to offer support, with nothing but prayers knocking around in my head, as quickly as I could, I slipped my arm underneath his suit jacket, then grabbed the gun that I knew was tucked in the waistband of his slacks.

"What the fuck?"

I stumbled back a bit as I lifted my arms, aiming the gun at his chest, and though my arm was burning like a motherfucker, it was still better than letting this sonofabitch lure me into his web to kill me later. If Noah Murphy was going to get rid of me, then it'd be with me fighting for my life and not playing the sitting duck.

"Shea, what the fuck are you doing?" he snapped as soon as the sounds of guns cocking shook the silence of the garage.

"Not letting you become a widow," I answered, my arms straining with keeping the gun aimed at him.

"Put your fucking guns down!" Noah thundered, ordering his men. "Now!"

"Noah-"

"Put them fucking down!" he repeated, yelling at Niall, his personal guard. "If anything happens to her, I'll kill you all!"

Though my eyes remained on Noah, I could see his men lowering their guns in my peripheral, but I still didn't trust it. Niall was his personal guard, so I could see Noah trusting him with my murder, but not the others. Plus, I imagined that the less people that knew of Noah's plans for me, the better. It wouldn't do to execute me in front of anyone that might feel the need to tell Declan or my parents.

I glanced over at my car really quickly, and though there was a guard standing between me and my vehicle, as long as I kept my gun aimed at Noah, I was pretty sure that no one would try to be a hero. Whatever happened, these men had been trained to protect the O'Brien royalty, and Noah definitely qualified as Mob royalty. So, despite Noah's orders, I was counting on their priority being protecting a Murphy and nothing more.

"Shea, put the gun down," Noah ordered, his voice sounding as calm as a hostage negotiator.

"No."

"Baby-"

"Don't call me that," I snapped.

"Okay…calm down-"

"I am calm," I lied. "Now, all you need to do is get out of my way."

Noah's bright eyes flared. "Shea, you know that I can't do that."

Hate for him burst like a firework in my chest. "I know everything , Noah," I finally told him. "So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to drive out of this garage and out of your life, and then after a legally reasonable amount of time, you can file divorce papers for abandonment."

Noah looked like he was about to burst a vein. "I'll never be divorced, lass."

"Yeah? Well, you're out of your mind if you think that I'm going to allow you to become a widower," I shot back.

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."