Free Hot Pursuit by Christina Skye Page B

to hide her emotions. “Look, I’ll admit it. I’m behind on my writing and it’s got me all worked up. I love you both to death, but if you appear on my doorstep while I’m trying to get caught up, I’ll just let the bell go on ringing.”
    Taylor held her breath, hoping Annie bought the story.
    â€œYou know, if you weren’t my sister, I’d probably hate you for a comment like that.”
    Taylor closed her eyes. They
weren’t
sisters by blood. With the news of her birth, that part of her identity had shifted, too. Until Taylor came to grips with how much had changed—and how much she would allow it to change
her
—seeing Annie was impossible.
    With tears in her eyes, she picked up a smiling photo of Annie and her handsome SEAL husband at their wedding. Annie looked radiant and Sam looked exactly like the hero he was. Taylor remembered the bumpy times with Annie, their years of competition as teenagers followed by years of drifting apart. Annie had been the rock, and Taylor had been the screwup, and each had secretly envied the other. All that had ended one night when Taylor and Annie had gotten seriously drunk, then dredged up the past. It hadn’t helped that Taylor had crashed a golf cart in the process, but at least the outcome had been good. For the first time in years, the two sisters had really talked about holding back, keeping grudges, and all their secret, deepest hurts.
    Since then, they had never been closer. It was almost as if Taylor had been given a new sister—and the chance to correct some of the mistakes she had made when young and irresponsible. But the big envelope on her desk challenged that closeness.
    Taylor shoved down her hurt, fully aware that Annie wasn’t to blame for the recent revelations. In fact, her sister would be devastated by the details, primarily out of concern for Taylor. That was one of the reasons Taylor was determined to keep the details secret until she could sort through her feelings of loss and betrayal. She knew that Annie, softhearted and gentle, would instantly want to comfort her and pull her close to stanch the pain.
    For Taylor, comfort would be too close to pity, and pity was the last thing she wanted.
    So she put a smile on her face and laughter in her voice, even as tears coasted down her cheeks. “Get off the phone, Annie. Go give that man with a cute butt a kiss and let me work.”
    She hung up while her sister was still laughing. For long moments she stood by the desk, pulling herself together piece by piece, memory by memory. She’d make her choice soon, and then she’d decide what to tell her sister. Sam would help her make that decision.
    Meanwhile, one demon at a time.
    She stripped off her ruined clothes and padded into her bedroom, pulling on her oldest sweatpants. Eating was out. Her stomach was still too queasy for anything solid. Nursing a cup of tea, she flipped on the evening news, only to feel her nausea grow worse.
    Every channel focused on the afternoon’s robbery, featuring interviews with the angry store clerk and the shaken woman in the last month of pregnancy. Next came an outraged Harris Rains demanding to know why law-abiding citizens couldn’t be safe on the streets of San Francisco. The way Rains told it, he had risked his life by shielding the pregnant woman and attempting to grapple with one of the wounded assailants, which was almost funny considering that when Taylor had seen him last, he’d been rigid with terror.
    If anyone had saved those customers, it was Jack Broussard.
    So why hadn’t he taken any credit? The man deserved a medal, but no one on television had even mentioned his name. Meanwhile, Rains was setting himself up to be
Time
’s next Man of the Year.
    When her own picture appeared, pale and frightened, Taylor switched off the television. She was suddenly aware that her apartment seemed too big and too quiet. She crossed to the big