The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (2 page)

She stood, slung the duffle bag over her shoulder, and casually made her way across the vacant lot. After pausing for a car to pass, she crossed the two-lane road and came to a stop in the middle of the garage's parking lot.

Much larger up close, she stared at the building in awe. Her body swayed just a little as she stared at the McCASSEY'S GARAGE sign, burning every line of every letter into her memory.

Wishing she had more time to look around, Georgia turned away from the building and, on her way out of the parking lot, stopped in front of the black tow truck; staring at the phrase
McCassey's Garage
written in script on the driver's side door.

Lost in thought as she traced the letters with her index finger, she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone's hand painfully grasped her wrist.

She didn't like to be touched ... by anyone.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?” the man asked.

Immediately shifting into survival mode, Georgia began struggling. “Let go of me!” When she looked up to face her captor, she noticed that the person who'd grabbed her was one of the three men who'd been last to leave the garage. His little-too-long, loose and unruly, curly brown hair looked very much like her own.

Stunned, she stilled, unable to take her eyes off him. “I—” she started to say, but couldn't think of an answer quickly enough. Instead of trying to talk her way out of it, she yanked her wrist from his grip and turned with the intention of fleeing across the street. However, she made it no farther than her first step, colliding with the largest man she'd ever seen.

The one with the Fu Manchu and waist-length hair.

Blackie; it had to be.

"Oh no you don't,” he said, closing his large hand around her upper arm in a powerful hold, “you ain't goin’ nowhere."

Georgia closed her eyes and tried to think of what to do. While she was happy to finally see her brothers up close, she knew she'd screwed up. Because of her carelessness, she'd been discovered.

They wanted to know who she was, and by the harsh sound of their voices, weren't going to leave her alone until they got their answer.

She couldn't tell the brothers the truth; it would ruin everything for them and their families.

Judging by the angry looks on both men's faces, Georgia knew she should be terrified; and had she not been high, the slight panic she was now feeling would've been ten times worse. Not sure what to do, she again began to half-heartedly struggle, trying to break free, knowing full well she wasn't going to be able to go anywhere.

"Hold still, goddammit,” commanded the man as he tightened his hold; his voice laced with such authority that she found herself doing as she was told, despite feeling the same revulsion she did every time a man laid a hand on her.

"My brother asked you a question,” the other man yelled, “and we'd all like an answer. Who the hell are you, and why were you sittin’ across the street watchin’ the garage all day?"

What? She hadn't moved a muscle the entire time she was huddled against the dumpster. How had they known she was there?

Unable to stifle a yawn, Georgia wiped her eyes and, with the intention of speaking up to defend herself, slowly tilted her head to face him. Although it was dark and she couldn't see too well, the scowl on his face was not only quite visible, but intimidating, as well. So much, in fact, that she couldn't bring herself to utter a single word other than, “Um—"

"Um?” he mocked sarcastically. “We catch you tryin’ to break into our garage, and all you have to say for yourself is ‘um'?"

"Hey,” said the other man, “I'm freezing my ass off out here. Can't we do this inside?"

The one holding her arm looked from her, to one of the bay doors, and back again. “Fine. Open the door, Reb."

Reb? Did he mean Rebel? She hadn't seen anyone else but the two guys standing on either side of her, but sure enough, yet another man, this one almost exactly the same height as the one who'd originally grabbed her, emerged from the shadows. He strode to the middle bay door, reached down, and pulled on the metal handle until the oversized garage door opened enough for them all to fit under.

After she was dragged inside, the door was closed and she was not-so-gently shoved into a metal folding chair in front of an old square card table.

"Hey!” she yelled, grabbing for the duffle bag that the biggest man had ripped off her shoulder and thrown to the ground.

When a light was turned on, Georgia momentarily shielded her eyes until they adjusted to the brightness. Wondering how she was going to explain herself, she turned and looked up at her captors, only to discover that they were the ones who were now speechless. The looks on their faces—faces that looked very familiar—told her all she needed to know.

They know.

They see the same thing I see.

Now I'm never going to be able to talk my way out of here without telling them what they want to know.

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After becoming a member of an outlaw biker gang at the age of seventeen, then spending a combined total of almost thirteen years in prison, Blackie McCassey had seen and done it all. Not much surprised him, and he'd never been rendered speechless.

Until today.

He and his brothers had known there was a young girl sitting in the vacant lot across the street watching the garage all afternoon. Since she'd seemed to be watching the building so intently, they'd assumed that she was probably going to try and break in after everyone was gone. So when Blackie, Judd, and Rebel had double-backed and returned to the garage ten minutes after they left, none of them were surprised to find her standing in the parking lot next to Rebel's tow truck.

However, utter shock came when they turned on the bright garage lights. The girl looked remarkably like not only Blackie, but Judd and Rebel, as well.

She stared at them with hauntingly familiar eyes.

Eyes the same color shared by him, both his brothers, and just about everyone they were related to.

McCassey royal blue eyes.

Not sure why he was suddenly angry, Blackie stepped forward, placed a hand on each side of the back of her chair, and leaned in until the two of them were nose to nose. “You'd better start talkin'."

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and raised her head, looking him dead in the eye.

And that's when he noticed it.

Her pupils were so constricted that they were no bigger than the head of a pin.

She was high as a kite.

Christ, this changes everything.

Blackie backed away and sighed. He then splayed the fingers on his right hand and ran them through his hair. Trying to hide his confusion, he unrolled the pack of Marlboros from his shirtsleeve and placed a cigarette between his lips. He lit up and tossed the pack away, watching it slide halfway across the card table before coming to a stop just inches from the edge. A bit more kind to his lighter, he jammed it into the side pocket of his navy blue mechanics coveralls.

The silence in the room was so deafening that Blackie could almost hear the smoke filling his lungs as he dragged on the cigarette. Glancing at his brothers, he was surprised to notice they were staring at him, almost as if they were waiting to be told what to do. That was odd, since Rebel—even though he was the youngest—was a natural born leader, often reminding Blackie of The Pied Piper. Rebel, with his level head and quick thinking, almost always stepped forward and took command when the situation warranted.

So why was he hanging back this time?

Blackie turned away from them and took another look at the girl. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a McCassey; a blind man could see the resemblance.

But who the hell was she, and where had she come from? Blackie knew every last McCassey cousin from Hagerstown to hell and back, and he'd never laid eyes on this girl. Not even once. If he had, he would've remembered, because the McCassey clan had always been dominated by men; his female cousins were few and far between. One was born not long after Rebel, and the handful born since then were too young to be anywhere near this girl's age; which Blackie guessed to be early to mid twenties.

Taking one last drag and tossing the butt of his cigarette to the floor, Blackie covered the short distance between himself and the card table in two long strides. He grabbed a chair and turned it around backwards, then straddled it and sat down across from the girl. The instant he looked at her, she bowed her head and stared at the floor.

"Why'd you come here?” Blackie waited a few seconds for an answer, but the girl remained quiet.

"I asked you a question,” he said, trying to keep his temper in check; knowing that if he lost control and exploded, he'd never get any information out of her. “I want an answer, girl. Now! What the hell do you want?"

"I don't want anything,” she whispered in a heavy, southern twang, continuing to stare at the floor.

"Bullshit! You must want somethin',” he told her, feeling his control beginning to slip. “You sat out in the empty, freezin’ cold lot across the street all goddamn day watchin’ us. Ain't nobody gonna do that unless they want somethin'!"

She raised her head sharply as he yelled the last half of his sentence.

Suddenly too angry to care whether or not he was scaring her, Blackie grabbed her left wrist and shoved the sleeve of her flannel coat up above her elbow. He'd known what he was going to find even before he saw the needle tracks running along the veins in her arm. But for some reason, having his suspicions proven was like a slap in the face ... and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

He released her arm as quickly as if it had scalded him, relinquished the temporary rein he had on his temper, and let it fly. “Didn't want nothin', huh? Liar! You're nothin’ more than a junkie who was here to steal what you could to feed your habit! You probably stole that new coat, too, didn't you?"

"No!” she suddenly yelled, taking Blackie off guard. “This coat was given to me! I've never stolen anything in my life! I'm not a thief and would never take anything from you guys, Blackie, I—"

Blackie stilled when she called him by name. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Judd and Rebel had moved in closer, and were now standing only a foot away.

The girl obviously hadn't planned on letting them know she knew who they were, because her hand had flown to her mouth, covering it the instant his name left her lips.

Judd and Rebel, who each looked more confused than the other, simply shrugged when he glanced at them.
Great,
he thought,
fat lot of help they're going to be. I guess it's up to me to handle this one.

Turning back to the girl, Blackie leaned down and got in her face. “How do you know my name?"

When she didn't respond, he sat down across from her again. “Okay, then, I guess a better question would be, what's your name?"

"Georgia,” she responded, the sound muffled since her hand was still covering her mouth.

Blackie reached out and gently took hold of her right hand, removing it from the front of her mouth. Surprised she allowed him to guide her arm down, he carefully rested it on her thigh before leaning in closer. “Georgia, what?"

"Georgia Virginia."

A game-player Blackie wasn't. If he didn't get a straight answer to his next question, she was going to have a hell of a lot more to worry about than just his anger. “Georgia Virginia,
what
?"

She took a deep breath, then raised her head and looked him in the eye. “McCassey."

He'd known that was coming, and knew his next question would provide all the answers they needed. “What's your father's name?"

Still looking him dead in the eye, the girl never hesitated before answering. “Dolan."

Blackie jumped out of his chair and leaned down, pointing a finger in Georgia's face. “Bullshit!” he yelled. “You're lyin'!"

This time, Georgia jumped up as well. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared up at him. “Would you lie and pretend he was your father if he really wasn't?"

As much as he hated to admit it, Georgia did have a point. Blackie had spent everyday of the last forty years trying to forget who'd sired him. If Dolan McCassey weren't his biological father, nothing on earth would make Blackie say that he was.

Still, there was a small chance she wasn't telling the truth. And that was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

Without taking his eyes off Georgia, Blackie shouted instructions to his brothers. “Judd, go call your new wife and tell her you're gonna be late.” Almost immediately, he added, “And call our wives, too, while you're at it. Rebel, search through that duffel bag. See if you can find some kind of identification card, a license or somethin'. Be careful, though, there're probably dirty needles in there."

Rebel shot Blackie a curious look, but Blackie ignored it, continuing to stare at Georgia. “Do it, Reb."

"No!” Georgia yelled as Rebel reached into her bag. She lunged forward, trying to stop him, but Blackie caught her around the waist, holding her tight against his body as she struggled weakly to free herself, preventing her from going anywhere. “That's my stuff!” she shouted. “You have no right to touch it!"

"Well, this is our garage,” Blackie reminded her, unsure of why he was holding her so tight. She was obviously so relaxed from being high that he wasn't sure she even wanted to get away. “And you had no right snoopin’ around here. So what Rebel's doin’ makes us even."

Calling a cease-fire to her half-hearted struggle, Georgia stilled.

As Rebel was gingerly picking through Georgia's duffle bag, Judd hung up the phone in the office and rejoined his brothers. “What's up?” he asked Blackie.

"I'll let you know in a minute; Rebel ain't found nothin’ yet."

"Yeah I have,” he told his brothers as he pulled a small pink and black wallet from the bag. Blackie felt Georgia stiffen as Rebel opened and began rifling through the billfold.

No more than a few seconds passed before he pulled out a small, laminated, rectangle card. After taking a moment to scan it, Rebel looked at Georgia. “She is who she says she is,” Rebel said, waiving the card in the air. “Georgia Virginia McCassey. But this is an old high school ID card from four years ago. That's all I could find."