Chapter 24

Shea~

A s I hunkered down on the bench of the bus stop, I wondered if my stupidity would never end. In my haste to get away from Noah, I'd left with no purse, jacket, extra clothes, or anything. When leaving the hospital, I had changed into the extra pair of scrubs that I'd kept in my locker at work, and that's what I still had on, not a nickel to my name.

I had also left my car abandoned a few miles back, knowing that they could easily find me by tracking the license plate number. I'd been so desperate to escape that I hadn't thought anything through, and now I was sitting at an empty bus stop, wondering what to do next. It was almost midnight, and I had no money, no phone, no ID, or anything. I couldn't even call my parents for help because that's what Noah would be expecting me to do. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he had someone sitting outside my parents' house just in case I showed up.

The only things that I had were Noah's gun and my wedding rings, two things that I could pawn if I only knew where a pawn shop was. I couldn't be sure, but I suspected that I was somewhere in Kotov territory, and I wasn't sure if that should scare me or not. Despite the state of my marriage, I was a Murphy, and would they welcome me on their streets so easily?

I also couldn't stop thinking of how Noah hadn't let his men kill me. I wanted so much to believe that he'd done it because he didn't want Declan finding out the truth, but if Declan already knew as I'd suspected earlier, then why not just kill me? Even after I'd already told him how I knew everything, he'd still insisted on his innocence, and wondering his end game was making me crazy.

Also, why come after me? Why not get the divorce? He'd broken his vows the moment that he had promised to love me, so what did the other ones matter? Why was being divorced such a huge sin in his eyes? It wasn't like we had years of history or any children between us, so what was the big deal? A divorce based on abandonment would slide through the courts with no problem, especially if months had gone by.

There was also my job to consider. Though I'd been given the rest of the week off, what was going to happen when I didn't show up next Wednesday for my shift? Would anyone question it? Would Noah call them and lie about me quitting? Would anyone even care? After all, since it was no secret that I was married to Noah Murphy, it wouldn't be like anyone would hunt him down for answers.

"Dorogaya devushka, what are you doing out here in the cold and alone?"

Startled out of my thoughts, I looked up to see a behemoth of a man take a seat next to me on the empty bench, and if I'd had any doubts about being in Kotov territory, I didn't have any now. While I didn't understand Russian, I knew enough to recognize the dialect, which was very different from the Italians. At any rate, it didn't matter whose territory I was in because I wasn't safe in any of them. I needed to get out of Maryland, and I needed to get as far away as I could, no matter how much it was going to tear me apart to be away from my parents.

The stranger sitting next to me had dark hair, dark blue eyes, a trimmed beard that covered sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, and it looked good on him. I wasn't a fan of lumberjack beards, so I could appreciate well-kempt facial hair where others probably didn't care much. He was also way over six-foot, built like a tank, and had tattoos everywhere, including his face. I knew that I should probably be scared, but I was pretty sure that delirium was the only thing keeping me from screaming my head off for help.

Nevertheless, desperation was one hell of a motivator, so instead of answering his question, I asked, "Is there a pawn shop open this late around here?"

"There are a couple," he answered, his eyes regarding me seriously. "What are you looking to pawn, dorogoya?"

"What…what does that mean?" I asked like an idiot.

The man grinned, and that simple act transformed his face into a piece of art. "Darling in Russian," he answered. "Earlier, I called you darling girl. This time, darling."

"You have a beautiful language," I remarked lamely, though it was true. I liked the way that it flowed off his tongue, and he spoke it well.

"Enough about my native tongue," he said. "What was it that you wish to exchange?"

Refusing to give up the gun in my pocket, I slid my wedding rings off my finger, then handed them to him. Yeah, he could race off with them, but I didn't get that vibe from him. Plus, what would it matter at this point. I'd be lucky to find a place where I could sell them without them asking me for identification. It would be worth the finder's fee if it got me enough cash to get the hell out of here.

Taking the jewelry in his fingers, I watched him examine them, and when his brows furrowed, my stomach sank. What if the stones were fake? In fact, that would make more sense than them being real since Noah hadn't ever wanted to marry me in the first place. I was probably going to have to sell the gun to get any money, but would they buy it if it wasn't registered to me?

"What is your name, dorogaya devushka ?" he asked after he was done examining the rings.

"Shea," I answered. "Shea Burke."

"Irish, no?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"And Shea Burke, why are you wanting to part with such stunning jewelry?"

"I lost my purse," I semi-lied. "Sooner or later, I'm going to need to eat, Mr…?"

"Ivan Kiselyov," he said, introducing himself graciously since I was in his territory.

"Well, Mr. Kiselyov, I'll need to eat at some point," I continued. "I can't live at this bus stop forever."

Ivan handed me back my rings, then said, "I know the place where you can sell these and get something to eat."

My stomach sank with apprehension because I knew better than to leave a well-lit area to go off with a stranger in the middle of the night. Yeah, I still had Noah's gun, but something told me that Ivan probably had a few of his own. I honestly didn't know what to do, and I felt the walls closing in on me with every breath that I took. Still, I knew that I was safer at the hands of this stranger than I was with Noah, so I didn't have much of a choice but to follow him.

"We also get you jacket," he announced. "It's too cold out here for you."

"I'm fine," I lied.

"Drebeden'," he rushed out. "Nonsense. You need a jacket."

Before I could argue some more, Ivan removed his own, then placed it around my shoulders, and it almost made me cry. I needed kindness right now, and I wasn't too proud to admit it. I was tired, injured, and lost, so I could use all the kindness that I could get right now.

His brows furrowed again when he asked, "Why is your head hurt? Did your husband do this?"

I shook my head, remembering the bandages. "I was…robbed," I hedged. "They shot me."

"Where else are you hurt?"

I lifted my left arm. "They shot me in the arm, too. Luckily, it went straight through, and the doctors were able to patch me up quickly."

"And what does your husband say about all this?"

Knowing better than to tell him anything about the O'Briens, I said, "He has more important things to see to at the moment."

"Dorogaya devushka , nothing is more important to a man than his wife," he commented, trying to be helpful, but failing miserably.

"That depends on the man, Ivan," I countered.

"I suppose that could be true," he conceded, before adding, "Let us go and get you some food."

As we both stood up from the bench, I asked, "Do you think I could get enough for the rings to get me out of Maryland?"

"I suspect that those rings could fetch you enough to fly you all the way to your homeland, Irish girl," he answered, grinning down at me.

"I was born in America," I informed him, correcting his assumption.

"Bah, that matters not," he replied. "Your homeland is where your heart is, and your heart is Irish. Like me, your nationality is American, but it is impossible to be American since an American is so many different races, cultures, and identities, dorogaya devushka . Therefore, you are Irish like I am Russian."

"I never thought about it that way before," I muttered in thought.

"Many people confuse their nationality with their ethnicity, but it's right there in the word," he went on. "Nation is in the word that makes up nationality, so when someone asks your nationality, it is the nation in which you were born. When someone asks your ethnicity, that's when the miracle of being an American comes into play, because that's when your bloodline has its opportunity to shine bright."

I glanced up at Ivan. "Are you a philosopher, Ivan?"

"No, I am not," he answered, grinning again. "I'm just an old man with too much time on his hands."

Knowing that he was lying, I let it go since he was being kind enough to ignore my lies, too.