Zach wiped his mouth with his handkerchief and shoved the square of white cotton into the back pocket of his navy blue slacks. He turned and saw that the officer had stepped out of the car and was approaching him.

"All right, buddy. Put your hands behind your back. There are speed limits, my friend, and you broke just about every one of them."

"Look, officer, I had to get to the emergency room. I didn't have time to stop and explain." He thought of Elizabeth lying pale and unconscious in a cubicle alone, hurt, maybe even dying, and started walking toward the door.

"She's unconscious. I don't know how badly she's hurt. I had to get her here quickly. If it was your friend, I think you'd do the same." He'd started to say wife, just to be sure he could see her, then caught himself. It was time to face the truth. He couldn't deal with the kind of emotional attachment he felt for Liz. He'd seen that clearly tonight. He had to detach himself, bring some control back into his life.

As soon as all of this was over, he was leaving. And he wouldn't be coming back to San Pico for Liz.

"What happened?" the officer asked, falling in step beside him, apparently deciding to let the matter of the broken speed limits drop.

"We were attacked by three men behind my friend's apartment. One of them hit me over the head with a piece of pipe. One of the others. .h.i.t my friend."

"You sure she isn't more than just a friend? From the blood on your face, looks to me like maybe the two of you had a fight. Maybe you're the one who hit her. Maybe you're the guy who put her in the hospital."

"I didn't touch her. I told you we were attacked by three men. The lady's name is Elizabeth Conners. She's a family counselor here in Sam Pico." He started walking faster, anxious to find out what was happening, afraid to think how badly Liz might be hurt. Whatever happened between them, he still loved her. Nothing could change that.

He didn't think anything ever would.

They shoved through the gla.s.s doors into the emergency room, which was overflowing with humanity, a large percentage of the group Hispanic.

"Elizabeth Conners," he said to a nurse who pa.s.sed through the room. "Where is she?"

"In cubicle B. You'll need to fill out some paperwork."

"Is she is she going to be all right?"

"You'll have to ask the doctor. She took a pretty bad blow to the side of the head. She must have landed hard, too. Dr. Lopez says she's got a concussion."

A concussion. d.a.m.n. Couldn't something like that be deadly? "Is she awake?"

"I think so." The nurse walked off and left him standing there. Zach tore after her, leaving the policeman behind. He poked his head through one of the curtains, saw a white-haired old woman lying on a gurney, searched behind another curtain and saw Liz lying in one of the narrow, sheet-draped beds. He stepped inside, letting the curtain fall behind him, fighting the fear and the lump that was building in his throat.

For several seconds he just watched her, silently praying, as he hadn't done in years. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him, and a wave of relief hit him so hard his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

"Hi "

He sat down in the chair next to her bed, reached out and took hold of her hand. "G.o.d, I was so worried. Are you all right? How are you feeling?"

It took an effort for her to swallow. "I'm a little rocky. The doctor wants to run a couple of tests but he thinks I'm going to be all right."

His hand shook as he reached up and touched her face. "I've never been so scared in my life."

"I was scared, too, Zach. When I saw that man coming at you with the pipe I thought he was going to kill you."

He managed to muster a smile. He ought to be the one with the concussion, but apparently he got lucky. "I'm tougher than I look."

"There's blood on your face. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." His jaw went hard. "Tomorrow I'm going out to see Carson."

Her fingers tightened on his. "Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you should just go to the police, tell them what happened."

"We don't have any proof that my brother was involved. We have no idea who those men were and by now they're probably long gone. Carson has an endless supply of people ready to do his dirty work if the price is right."

Liz closed her eyes. "This is all so mixed up. I can't make sense of any of it."

"I know what you mean." He bent and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Get some rest. Maybe tomorrow things will look better."

Liz nodded, but neither of them believed it.

Twenty-Eight.

Elizabeth slept lightly off and on. Dr. Lopez had ordered an overnight stay for observation and scheduled a CAT scan procedure in the morning to be sure there were no serious injuries. Sometime during the night, she'd been moved into a hospital room shared by an older woman asleep in the other bed. One of the nurses gave her some Tylenol for her seemingly endless headache and the general soreness she felt all over.

Just before dawn, she awakened and was surprised to find Zach sitting in the chair, asleep next to her bed.

He was still in the chair when she awakened several hours later, his dark eyes watching her, his expression full of worry and fatigue. A rough shadow of beard outlined his jaw and his dark hair was mussed, making him look dangerous and even s.e.xier than he usually did. If her lip hadn't hurt, she might have smiled.

Instead, she reached over and caught his hand, gave it a rea.s.suring squeeze. "Good morning." The words came out thick and husky, as if her voice didn't work quite right.

He smiled, but his eyes still looked tired, and it was obvious that he was worried about her. "How are you feeling?"

She managed a smile. "Like I've been run over by a truck."

"You werethree of them, as I recall."

"What about you?"

"A little stiff, is all. It's been a while since I've been in a street fight."

"I think you would have taken care of all three of them if it hadn't been for that pipe."

The edge of his mouth faintly curved. "I would have done my best."

A uniformed nurse came in just then and Zach stood up from his chair. His pants were wrinkled, his shirt torn and spotted with dried blood.

"We need to get those tests underway," the nurse said to him kindly. "You can wait in the room down the hall."

Zach just nodded. Reaching toward where she lay against the pillow, he gently traced a knuckle over her cheek. "I'll be here when you're finished."

Elizabeth just nodded. Her heart was squeezing, reminding her how much she loved him. Telling her that here was a man unlike any she had ever known, would ever know again. He had once said that he loved her. When she thought of the way he had looked at her last night, the worry she had seen in his eyes, she found herself believing it might be true.

But this was Zachary Harcourt, the Lone Wolf, and she thought that even if he loved her it might not be enough.

Sitting in the small waiting room down the hall from where the CAT scan was being done, Zach thumbed through the pages of a Time magazine, unable to concentrate on the printed words. He couldn't relax until he knew for sure Liz was going to be all right. He tossed the magazine aside and began to pace the near-empty room, his worry mixed with a simmering anger.

What the h.e.l.l was the matter with Carson? He was bound to be upset about the lawsuit, a pet.i.tion that asked the court to appoint someone who would agree to the surgery his father so desperately needed. But this kind of response was way out of line.

d.a.m.n him!

The fact was, Zach had underestimated his half brother once again. It had never occurred to him that Carson would actually go as far as hiring a pack of thugs to attack them, that he would order his men to physically attack a defenseless woman.

Tamping down a fresh shot of fury, Zach mulled that over and tried to make himself think like his brother. If the surgery was approved and actually succeeded in restoring Fletcher Harcourt's mental capabilities, Carson might no longer be running Harcourt Farms. He would lose the power he coveted so greatly, the prestige in the community that seemed so important. It might even affect his lofty political ambitions.

Whatever his brother's motives, his men could have killed Elizabeth Conners and Zach wasn't about to let that pa.s.s.

The doctor was smiling as he approached where Zach stood next to the coffeepot, and seeing that smile, some of his tension eased.

"The tests came out negative," the doctor said. "There doesn't appear to be any unseen damage. We still have some paperwork to complete before she's released. She'll need time to dress and get ready. Why don't you come back in a couple of hours?"

Zach nodded. "All right. Thanks, Doc, for everything."

While Liz was completing the checkout process, Zach went back to her apartment to shower and change, then drove out to Harcourt Farms. Unfortunately, when he pulled up in front of the house that had once been his home, he was met by Les Stiles and two of Les's goons.

Obviously they'd been expecting him.

Zach cracked his car door open into the morning heat and stepped out of the car, and Stiles and his cronies came down off the porch. At first, Zach thought the dark-skinned men flanking Les on each side were the guys who had attacked him last night, but during the brawl, he'd landed a few good punches, and these two didn't have a scratch.

Stiles stepped forward. "Where do you think you're going?" His big, meaty hands were wrapped around a baseball bat.

"I'm here to see my brother. Get out of my way, Stiles."

Stiles didn't move. Beneath his battered straw hat, his eyes looked hard. "You're not welcome here, Zach. Not anymore. Your brother wants you off Harcourt property."

"This property belongs to my father, not Carsonno matter what he believes. I'll come here whenever I d.a.m.n well please."

"Carson runs this place, and as far as he's concerned, you're trespa.s.sing." Stiles moved closer, slapping the bat against the palm of his hand, his men staying abreast of him, one on each side. Both were young, hard-muscled, and itching for a fight. Zach's hands unconsciously fisted, every nerve in his body urging him to give them one.

"You're a troublemaker, Zach," Stiles said. "You always have been. You come here looking for trouble and you're gonna find it."

"You mean like last night?"

Stiles just smiled. "All you have to do is mind your own business. You do that, there won't be a problem."

A muscle bunched in Zach's jaw. He forcibly clamped down on his anger. Stiles was as tough as he looked. Even if Zach took down the other two, odds were, against all three of them, he'd come out the loser. He couldn't help his father or anyone else if he wound up like Liz, in some d.a.m.ned hospital bed.

"You tell Carson anything else happens to Liz Conners, he's gonna answer to me, and hiring all the muscle in the world isn't going to help him." Turning away, Zach stalked back to his car and climbed in, his jaw clenched so hard a stab of pain ran up the back of his neck.

Whatever the h.e.l.l Carson was trying to do, he wasn't going to succeed.

Zach wasn't going to let him.

When it was time to leave the hospital, Elizabeth found Zach waiting for her at the end of the hall.

"You ready?" he asked as the nurse wheeled her up in a wheelchair. His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken and he was wearing clean clothes.

"Believe me, I'm more than ready."

His mouth edged up, drawing her attention to the cut on his cheekbone and the bruise along his jaw, reminding her she wasn't the only one who'd been hurt last night. She wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure that he was all right.

Instead, she leaned back in the wheelchair and let him roll her down the hall to the door.

"I stopped in to see Maria," she told him along the way. "She's going home on Wednesday."

He brought the wheelchair to a halt. "She hasn't changed her mind? She's not planning to go back to the house?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "She's staying with Se"ora Garcia."

"Thank G.o.d for that."

"A couple of policemen paid me a visit. I guess they talked to you last night."

"One of them did."

"I a.s.sured them you were not the guy who beat me up."

Zach's lips twitched. "Then I guess I don't have to worry about going back to jail."

She cast him a glance. "At least not for that."

Zach actually grinned.

Outside the hospital, he helped her out of the chair and down the wide front steps, then carefully loaded her into his car as if she were made of gla.s.s.

"I'm okay, Zach, really."

Zach nodded and continued to fuss over her all the way back home. He carried her into the apartment, settled her on a stack of pillows on the sofa, and insisted she rest for the day.

Elizabeth didn't argue. Her head ached as if someone were playing pool in the back of her skull, and though she had slept some during the night, she was exhausted.

Zach plumped her pillows for the third time since they got home then grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He made her some soup, using some dry pasta noodles he found in the pantry along with leftover chicken, a meal far better than her usual Campbell's out-of-a-can fare.

As she ate the soup, he sat down in the chair next to the sofa, but he didn't stay seated long. He seemed restless, uneasy. Just watching him made her uneasy, too.

Elizabeth used the tuner to mute the sound on the television show that neither of them was watching and propped herself into a sitting position on the sofa, ignoring the stab of pain that shot into her head.

"You're worried, aren't you? You're thinking about the house and what might be happening to Miguel."