Love Me If You Dare (Bachelor Blogs 2)

Sara hated feeling weak. “This whole situation pisses me off. The last thing I want to do is let someone run me out of my own apartment.”

“Pride could get you killed,” Coop said, concern in his voice. “Can they assign someone to watch you? Protection?”

Sara shook her head. “We’re shorthanded due to budget cuts, and the captain can’t waste men or man-hours babysitting me.” She groaned and rubbed her aching temples, the only alternative becoming clear.

“You need to get out of town,” Coop said.

“Maybe.” If the threat became real.

Although, where could she go? The cops in her family could handle the potential danger, but they were all scattered around the city, which didn’t help her escape from strangers who’d recognize her and report in to the Bachelor Blogger.

“It’s only until after you testify. Once Morley’s convicted, you can come home.”

She leaned against the side of the couch so she could prop her knee on the cushion and rest. “I know, and I’ll think about it.”

“Seriously consider it?” he pressed.

She nodded. “I don’t have a death wish.”

He inclined his head, satisfied. “Good. So. Have you heard from Rafe?” Coop named the one person she hadn’t been able to push from her mind.

She narrowed her gaze, wary of why he’d bring it up now. “What does Rafe have to do with anything?”

Coop shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

Sara didn’t trust his motives. Happy coupled-up people always tried to push others into relationships, too. “Once Rafe was discharged from the hospital, we went our separate ways.”

More like she’d kept things cool during her last few visits so he’d be sure not to call. She told herself it was better this way. He took his relationships too seriously for her to risk dabbling. No matter how much she wanted to. And she did. Badly.

Coop shook his head. “You froze him out, didn’t you?” he asked in disgust.

He knew her too well.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she lied. “We’re friends, that’s all. But these days we only speak to each other when there’s a reason. Like when I asked him to work security at the auction.”

Coop stared at her. Unwilling to break eye contact, the reporter in him obviously willed her to crack and admit she wanted more from Rafe than friendship.

The cop who was a master at interrogation met him with a blank look of her own.

“Don’t you see how he looks at you?” Coop asked.

“Are you telling me you noticed?” she asked, secretly thrilled at the prospect that Coop might be right.

He grinned. “No. But Lexie did. And she said the sparks across the ballroom were electric. So why are you fighting what could be a good thing?”

Sara expelled a long breath. “Because Rafe is into commitment. Marriage. Family. That’s what he wants out of life. And I don’t.” But she wished he were here now.

He was the one person she trusted to keep her safe. When on patrol, she’d never worried, knowing he had her back. Just like on the rooftop, she’d known precisely what he intended, dove for cover at the right time, then assisted him in collaring the perp. He’d know what to do, and she’d feel better just knowing he was around.

“I get it. Lexie loved travel and swore she’d never give it up for any man. Yet, we’re going house-hunting. Draw your own conclusions.” Coop spoke in a patronizing voice.

Sara grit her teeth, ignoring his comment.

Finally Coop glanced at his watch and rose from his seat. “I’ve got to go meet Lexie.”

Sara smiled. She never stayed mad at him for long. “Say hello for me. And good luck finding the right place.”

“Thanks.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Even if you don’t want to give things with Rafe a try, he might still be the solution to your problem. You need to stay safe, and he’s already out of town. Maybe you could join him.”

As much as Sara hated to admit it, Coop just might have a point, but she needed to be convinced. “He’s recovering from a stabbing and major surgery.” She glanced at Coop, wanting him to play devil’s advocate with her.

“We both know Rafe at minimal capacity is worth a lot. Look at it this way. Between the two of you, you’re the equivalent of one healthy person.” Coop chuckled.

Hadn’t she just thought the same thing? Together they were the perfect team. Professional team, she silently amended.

“I’ll think about it,” she promised. She had a hunch she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else.

“Do that. Because it’s going to get crazy for you in the city. You won’t know the lunatics from the murderers.”

Sara shivered at his accurate description. “Even if I wanted to join him, according to the Bachelor Blogger, nobody knows where he is.”

Coop rolled his eyes. “As if that’s an issue. I’m sure a resourceful cop could figure it out. If she really wanted to.”

She groaned and shook her head. “You’re impossible,” she said, laughing. “Nothing is impossible.”

SARA DIDN’T RUSH to leave town. She still had things to take care of before she could disappear for a while, including visiting her physical therapist and making sure she had the rehab exercises she’d need while she was gone. She also wanted to see the fallout from the blog for herself before making any rash decisions to run.

Over the next few days, Sara learned what it meant to be the focus of the Bachelor Blog. Someone had gotten hold of her unlisted phone number and called her at odd hours, seeking phone sex, which forced her to disconnect her landline. Gifts accumulated at the station house and outside her apartment door.

Her walk-up apartment, without a doorman for security, provided crazy people with easy access inside her building. All it took was a resident exiting the otherwise locked door and strangers casually slipped inside, leaving her creepy notes and  p**n ographic gifts. Not a good thing, especially now, when as Coop said, she couldn’t distinguish the crazies from the murderers. She wished she had the luxury to ignore the gifts, but she needed to know if there was a valid threat from Morley or his people.

An innocuous-looking gift, wrapped in plain brown paper left outside her door along with a computer-generated label, finally convinced her it was time to go. The package looked identical to many others she’d received, but the note inside was different: