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Something he denied himself.
    “Sam?” Josh opened the driver’s seat door and slid into the cruiser. “I’ve got to take you in, buddy.” He turned, staring through the cage, his brown eyes somber. “It’s going to take a while to dust for prints and the like. It’s an unholy mess in there.”
    “Josh.” Sam flinched at the graveled sound of his own voice. “I didn’t do it. Just let me go home. I’ll be there if you need me. I promise.”
    Josh sighed, shaking his head as he pulled his door close. “One of the boys will bring your truck in. We’ll have to search it, and let the investigator finish his job. I have to hold you till then, Sam. I don’t have a choice.”
    Hold him. In a cell. He could feel the sweat building on his face, his body. Dammit straight to hell.
    “You can call Cade from the office…”
    “Goddammit, I don’t need Cade,” Sam bit out, then tightened his body, fighting for control. Control. He wouldn’t survive without it. “Sorry, Josh.” He pushed his fingers wearily through his hair as Josh watched him, his expression clinical, emotionless. “Not everyday you see something like that.”
    But it hadn’t been the first time he had seen so much blood, either. Not the first broken and mangled body, bones broken, blood flowing. Nausea welled up inside him as scattered images flitted through his mind.
    “Hell no, it ain’t,” Josh grunted, turning around. “Hopefully, they’ll have things settled by morning though.”
    Sam prayed they settled sooner than that.
    Lora Leigh
    Heather’s Gift
    28

    Chapter Six

    It was a cage. A cell. Bars surrounded him, enclosed him, nightmares twisted at the edge of reality and caused sweat to dampen his body, his clothes. It ran down his face in slow rivulets, despite the air conditioning. A cage. Bars that were locked. He was unable to escape, unable to run from the monster who would slowly destroy them. Sam shook his head, fighting the nightmare images, the sense of unreality that surrounded him. He clenched his fists. He was older now, stronger, and a hell of a lot meaner than he had been then. Besides, this was the county jail, not the basement of some bastard’s mansion. There were windows here.
    He stood and paced over to it, trying to ignore the bars there as well. He stared down at the parking lot as he ran his hands through his damp hair. Dammit to hell. He had to get out of here. He could feel his throat closing up on him, and terror roaring at the edges of his mind.
    He wiped at his forehead, grimacing at the cold sweat that wet his hands. He could feel it all along his body. His back. His chest. He fought to shake off the fear. Dammit, he wasn’t a kid anymore. He could handle this. Sheriff Martinez would check things just like Sam had told him, and he would release him. But what if the proof didn’t show? That insidious thought rocked his mind. His stomach roiled, pitching in terror at the thought. God help him, he couldn’t stand it here much longer.
    You ain’t goin’ nowhere, boy. The ghost of his nightmares sounded in his brain. You had a chance, Sam-boy… I offered it to you, and you didn’t take it. Sam shook his head. Memories better left forgotten slipped demonically through the veil that often hid them. He didn’t want them to escape, didn’t want to remember the dark, agonizing pain of those months he and his brothers had been held captive. It’s okay, Sam. I killed him. I killed him, Sam. Remember that. Remember, Sam. Cade’s voice was savage, determined. Blood surrounded them, but none of it marred Cade. Sam’s hands were stained with blood. His nude body, nearly flayed to the bone, crisscrossed with vicious welts and deep cuts. He hurt. God he hurt so bad, and there was so much blood.
    He shook his head. It’s over, Sam. I killed him. Let it go. It’s over. Cade’s voice was insistent as he used the tone that the younger brothers knew brooked no refusal. He swallowed the bile in his throat. It was