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Soft hands pressed at his face. “Stop fighting me or you'll hurt yourself.”
    The darkness was growing, taking him down. “Someone here.” He struggled to speak. “Can't—stay here.”
    “Now you just relax. Let's get your oxygen back on. You'll feel better then.”
    Another voice, another set of hands. Sam felt the prick of a needle, then the slow numbness dripping into him, blurring pain and memories.
    Not yet.
    He had to explain.
    Had to report that the danger was here. Somehow it had followed him.
    Then the pain fell away, and there was nothing at all left for him to remember.

Chapter Four
    F ORTY-EIGHT HOURS LATER, ANNIE WAS STILL WAITING FOR NEWS.
    She had scanned every news channel, hoping for an update, but no one was talking about Sam's condition, unofficially or otherwise. The silence was driving her crazy.
    With a sigh she forced her mind back to work. July was her busiest season, and with Summerwind fully booked, she had her hands full hosting special events, local wine tastings, and gourmet dinners. Usually she enjoyed these unique promotions, but Annie couldn't pull her thoughts away from Sam.
    Wherever he was.
    Despite Taylor's pointed questions, Annie kept her silence, and her sister had stalked off in no good humor. But Annie knew that Taylor's anger would pass and then she would be back to help.
    The hard truth was that Annie needed Taylor's help more than she ever had before.
    She was finishing a memo for a gourmet cookoff hosted by three famous California chefs when her computer screen filled with fuzzy red lines. Annie sighed. One day she would have to track down the annoying glitch.
    Right now it was at the bottom of her list.
    She looked up as her head housekeeper huffed into the room. “
No mas, señorita.
He cuts the towels again.”
    Annie rubbed her neck. “You mean the Olympic fencer in the Monterey Suite?”
    “
Sí, sí.
” Her housekeeper smoothed her pristine white apron. “He cuts holes in all my towels. A riposte, he calls it. Now I have two dozen new towels and all are slashed.”
    “Give him replacements from last year's supply and keep arecord. We'll charge him for the new ones. Any other problems?”
    “The test pilot in room twenty-two. He pays to lose weight, then hides a television set, two bottles of gin, and a box of Twinkies in the closet.” She sniffed. “He promises me three hundred dollars if I do not tell you.”
    Annie had to smile at the man's ingenuity. “Tell Major Prescott that the television and alcohol go or he goes. We'll negotiate about the Twinkies.”
    The housekeeper bustled out happily and was immediately replaced by Annie's head chef.
    “A problem, Zoe?”
    “I'm going to kill them all. I've got the knife ready.”
    Annie sat back, looking interested. “Your old boyfriends?”
    “The rabbits. This time they hit the bok choi and white strawberries. It's a war out there, Annie.”
    Aware that a chuckle might lose her one of California's finest chefs, Annie kept her face sober. After a last, disgusted look at her computer, she stood up. “Let's go have a look. Maybe we could throw my monitor at them. It doesn't seem to be good for anything else but crushing small animals.”

    W HEN ANNIE RETURNED FROM HER JAUNT, SHE WAS TIRED, HUNGRY, and more than a little irritated. The rabbits had done more damage than she realized. The orchard and gardens would have to be carefully fenced. Otherwise, her chef was history.
    She glanced at the new faxes, snagged a cup of coffee, and headed down the corridor to her office. She was absently scratching a mosquito bite when she saw the glow of light above her desk.
    Annie froze, certain she'd turned off the desk lamp before she'd left.
    She put down her coffee on an end table and inched closer. A man was sitting at her computer. He appeared to be inputtinga stream of programming code, humming happily, completely at home.
    Furious, Annie shouldered open the door. “You have exactly sixty seconds to tell me who