“Then get in your car and follow her home.” Nick pointed to the front door. “She can’t have that much of a head start. Go after her.”

“You say it like it’s simple,” Rafe muttered.

“Same way you’ve said it to me.” Nick slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder.

“I’ll go after Sara if you go over to Angel’s and put your foot down,” he said to his brother.

Rafe shook Nick’s hand. “Good luck.”

“Back at you.”

They’d both need it, Rafe thought. Neither one of them was guaranteed the outcome they desired.

SARA WASN’T A CRIER. She normally didn’t shed tears, yet from the minute she pulled out of Rafe’s driveway, after she’d called Coop and given the okay on the fake blog story, the waterworks flowed. Sara understood the tears meant something deep and meaningful. Something she would have to deal with. She even considered turning around and going back, but she was so overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn’t figure out what she was feeling, or even what she’d say to Rafe if she returned.

The one thing she knew for sure, the only thing, was that she had to be in the city to testify. So she kept driving before she could put her focus back on herself and her feelings for Rafe.

She’d barely driven ten minutes out of town on the highway when she caught sight of a car pulled over on the side of the road. A white distress flag had been tied to the antenna.

Sara slowed down to see if the person in trouble was still with her car, and, sure enough, she saw a woman with long hair sitting on the side of the road. The day was typically balmy and warm, the road basically empty, and who knew how long she’d been sitting there waiting for someone to stop and help.

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Sara’s cop instincts kicked in, and she pulled over, just in front of the woman and her vehicle. Leaving her car running, Sara walked around toward the woman in distress.

“Can I help you?” Sara called out.

“You certainly can.”

The woman had jumped to her feet, and, as she came closer, Sara realized she looked familiar. “Joy, right? I met you at Angel’s Bed-and-Breakfast, remember?”

“Of course I remember. You’re the reason I came to this godforsaken town.” Joy reached for her back pocket and withdrew a gun.

Sara made the same move, coming up empty.

Off-duty and upset about Rafe, she hadn’t even thought about taking out her weapon to help a solitary woman on the side of the road.

Bad move, Rios, she thought to herself.

“Hands in the air,” Joy said.

Sara slowly complied, raising her hands as Joy’s words finally registered. “What do you mean, I’m the reason you’re here?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

FROM THE TIME ON THE answering machine and knowing she’d taken the time to shower and pack, Rafe figured Sara had at least a twenty-minute head start. He hadn’t needed his brother’s nudge to get him to go after her, but at least he’d gotten Nick to go to Angel.

He didn’t know what it was with the Mancuso brothers, but their love lives were in the toilet.

Or were they?

Ever the optimist, Rafe refused to believe he wouldn’t get through to Sara. He deliberately hadn’t pushed her about her feelings, wanting to give them time to cement whatever it was. So, just maybe, he could get past her panic after all.

He merged onto the main highway out of town and settled in for the long ride to New York. Ten minutes later, he saw a car that had pulled over on the side of the road. A car that looked just like Sara’s.

Concerned, he slowed down and pulled over, backing up until he was in front of the car. A quick look at the license plate confirmed it was Sara’s car.

Panic sliced through him, but he instructed himself to stay calm. Think. If she’d pulled over because of car trouble, wouldn’t she still be here now?

Unless she’d called someone to pick her up. But anyone in his family would have alerted him. In case he was wrong, he dialed Angel, Nick, even his parents, and Pirro and Aunt Vi. Nobody had heard from Sara, but they promised to call him if they did.

His mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. Could Morley’s men have gotten to her?

Before panic enveloped him, he forced his training to kick in. Rethink the situation, he thought. Sara hadn’t heard from any of Morley’s men since the festival. The threat was out there, but there was no one with whom to attach a face, no one they’d seen out of the ordinary in town. So, though they’d had a plan, they’d become complacent. Sara even more so, since she’d taken off without a word.

Their plan—a plan which Sara had already deviated from—dictated that when she was summoned back to New York, they’d call Coop and have him tell Amanda to run the fake blog. Then they’d drive back to the city together.

Heart pounding, Rafe tried the reporter, hoping he’d heard from Sara. Sure enough, she’d been in touch and had told him to have Amanda go with the story, which she had. The blog post had been up for about half an hour. And Coop hadn’t heard from Sara since.

Promising to call when he found her, Rafe hung up.

He strode over to Sara’s car and tried to get inside. The door was locked, but a quick look through the windows told him nothing appeared amiss.

Next Rafe walked the perimeter of Sara’s car, taking note of the obvious skidmarks where another car had peeled out of there. Skidmarks that looked fresh.

Bingo.

She hadn’t been alone.

Shit. He immediately called the state police and reported that an NYPD police officer was missing, along with a brief roundup of the circumstances that had brought her here from the city. He detailed the location of the abandoned car on the side of the road, with the license plate.

He directed any further questions to Captain Hodges, then turned back to his own search and investigation.

Where the hell could they have taken her?

Rafe took one last slow walk around the area, keeping an eye on the ground for clues. He knew Sara well enough to know she wouldn’t go without a fight or at the very least without attempting to give him something to go on.

He saw an old bottle cap, gravel, dirt and rubber from a worn tire tread. He was about to give up when he caught sight of something blue. He knelt down and picked up a couple of blue pills. Pills that looked exactly like the Viagra Pirro had given him last week.

Any one could drop Viagra, but could it be coincidence that he’d given her the same brand of pills for her to hold? She’d put them in her shorts pocket, and Rafe had forgotten all about them once they’d gotten home. Had she thrown them out? Or left them in her pocket?




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