The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (4 page)

"But the minute he tied it around my upper arm, I realized what was about to happen. I fought him, begging him not to do it; but all he did was laugh. My whole life flashed in front of my eyes when I saw him coming at me with that syringe. I was scared to death, but there was nothing I could do. The next thing I knew, he jammed the needle into my arm and shot me up with a quarter bag of heroin.

"I started throwing up almost immediately, so he untied and dragged me off the bed, and threw me in the bathroom. I puked my guts up for a while, then must've passed out. When I woke up, I was lying on the bathroom floor."

Georgia hadn't realized it, but sometime during her explanation, she'd started to cry again. She'd never said any of that out loud before, and hearing the story told in her own voice made the reality of everything that had been done to her that much more real. She didn't wipe at her tears this time, because there was more to the story. She had a feeling the guys knew that, which is probably why they were still quietly staring at her.

I might as well finish.

It's all going to come out sooner or later.

"As you probably guessed, I became addicted to the drug right away. Dolan gave me a fix whenever I needed one, as long as I cooperated when he wanted me to do something; which was usually entertaining someone, if you know what I mean."

She paused and glanced at Blackie, Judd, and Rebel, who all looked as though they needed no further explanation.

"To make back the money my mom couldn't pay him, Dolan ... sold me to the highest bidder a few times a week, sometimes more, depending on what kind of mood he was in. So I always did what he wanted, and my reward was a shot in the arm, which, believe it or not, was what kept me sane all those years. When I was high, I didn't have to feel anything; didn't have to think about my mom or my old life, or the fact that I was a fifteen-year-old junkie who would never be anything more than a dirty whore."

When Georgia fell silent, Judd got up from the table and started pacing. Blackie and Rebel remained quietly in their seats, which she knew couldn't be good.

Might as well finish.

"I used to pray that I'd either die in my sleep, or that Dolan would make a mistake and give me too much of the drug, causing an overdose. But he never did. He was very careful about the dose he gave me because he knew I was a goldmine. There was no way he was going to take a chance on losing his meal ticket. He even made every man he sold me to wear a condom; said he didn't want to have to worry about getting rid of a baby."

Now they know everything.

I wonder which one of them is going to tell me to leave.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Judd's cigarette had been extinguished under the heel of his work boot and he'd rejoined everyone at the table.

But nobody was saying anything, and the silence in the garage was once again deafening.

It was obvious to Georgia that her brothers didn't want anything to do with her. Why would they? All three of them were apparently happily married with children. They owned a business, appeared to work very hard, and probably did very well for themselves. She was an outsider, and most likely, an unwelcome one.

To save them the trouble, she'd see herself out.

But first, she needed another fix.

Rising from her chair, Georgia got no further than the edge of the table before Blackie's arm shot out and locked around her wrist. She stilled instantly, afraid of what he might do.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

"I—"

"Need a fix?” he finished her sentence.

What was she supposed to do, lie? She couldn't—wouldn't—do that to him. Georgia lowered her head in shame. “Yeah."

"As of right this minute, Georgia, you're done with that shit.” Blackie looked up at her, holding her gaze until she finally blinked. “Understand?"

No.
“What are you talking about?"

"I'm sayin’ that you're finished stickin’ needles in your arm and puttin’ that fuckin’ junk in your body."

He wants me to quit? Just like that?
“I can't,” she admitted, “I mean, I want to, but I don't know how."

"No worries,” he said, “me and the boys will help you."

"What? No! No way!” She yanked her arm from his grasp and took a few steps back. “I'm not going to do that to you; that's not why I came here!

"I didn't even know about you guys until four years ago. Dolan talked about all three of you constantly; so much that I felt like I knew you. I'm on my way to California.” She paused and looked at her watch, remembering for the first time since she'd walked into the garage that she had a bus to catch.

A bus that had pulled out a couple of hours ago.

Had she really been talking to Blackie, Judd, and Rebel for nearly three hours?

"I only stopped by to get a look at the three of you,” she continued, “to put faces with the names of the brothers I've thought about for so long. I didn't come here because I want anything from you. You've all got families and lives of your own. I refuse to mess that up by intruding."

Georgia started to move toward her duffle bag again, but the sound of Blackie's terrifying deep voice stopped her cold. “Well maybe we want somethin’ from you."

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

What could they possibly want? Unless they were more like their father than she thought...

The scowl on Blackie's face seemed to bore a hole right through her. “It ain't that, Georgia, so get your head out of the damn gutter. Maybe we just want to get to know our sister."

Hearing Blackie refer to her as their sister gave Georgia a feeling of warmth and acceptance she'd never experienced. But she didn't get too excited; for she knew that once he sat down and thought about it, he'd change his mind. They all would. She had no place in their clean, civilized world. Shaking her head, Georgia had to make them understand. “I can't, Blackie, I—"

"You what?"

Georgia lowered her head. “I just can't, that's all."

"What? We ain't good enough for you?"

Where had he gotten that idea?
“That's not it!"

"Then what's the problem?” Blackie yelled.

She looked up to find all three of them staring at her. “You all know what I am,” she reminded them. “You don't want me here ... around your families, your kids. I'm not good enough to—"

"Bullshit!” Blackie jumped out of his chair and walked over to her, cupping her face in his hands and tilting it upwards until they were staring at each other. “Don't you ever say that!” he roared, “do you hear me? What that bastard forced you to do ain't your fault! No one gives a damn about what you
used
to be. You're a McCassey. You ain't no whore, and as of right now, you ain't a junkie no more, either."

Georgia didn't know what to say ... what to do. She never expected any of this; never thought that wandering away from the bus station that afternoon would end with such amazing results. She desperately wanted to lead a normal life, be at least some of the person she was before her father ruined her life. Most of all, she wanted to get to know her brothers.

But could she do it? Could she kick the heroin cold turkey? Georgia had her doubts. And even if she did, she knew that most people eventually relapsed.

It did sound nice, though. Finally getting her life back together and having a family, people that cared about her. How could she turn down an offer like that? It was everything she'd ever dreamed of.

Georgia nodded and gave in, figuring she had nothing else to lose by trying. When Blackie removed his hands from her face, she turned her head to the side and leaned into his chest as he slowly, tentatively wrapped his arms around her body, drawing her close. He must've guessed that she didn't like to be touched, and was obviously trying to show her that he wasn't going to hurt her.

Suddenly realizing that for once, she didn't feel violated by a man's touch, Georgia slowly followed Blackie's lead and raised her arms, winding them around his waist. He was so big that they didn't fit all the way around his middle, but she hooked her thumbs through the two loops on his coveralls and hung on tight.

Standing there, her body engulfed by Blackie's large frame, Georgia felt safe ... finally. For the first time in four years, she felt there was someone she could trust.

Before she knew it, Judd and Rebel were there, too. Not touching or smothering her, just protectively hovering.

Minutes later, when Blackie made a move to release her, she surprised herself by feeling reluctant to let him go.

"Georgia?"

She backed away then, but not before giving him one last squeeze.

"In order to help you, we need to know the rest."

"The rest of what?"

"The rest of the story. The old man's been dead a month, and he was up here roamin’ around for a couple weeks before that. What've you been doin’ since he left you down in Virginia? Why'd you wait so long to come here?"

Still standing in the middle of the garage, Georgia took one last, long glance at her duffle bag, longing for the drug she knew was still stashed in the shoebox. Just one more fix would do it. It'd calm her down and get her through telling the last few details that she'd yet to share. But it was obvious the guys weren't going to let her near it. Like Blackie had said, as of today, she was no longer a junkie.

She could do this. And she could do it without the heroin.

She had to.

It was a matter of her own life or death...

[Back to Table of Contents]

Although he'd been fairly quiet during their lengthy conversation with Georgia, allowing his brothers to do most of the talking, that didn't mean Judd wasn't interested in what was going on.

He had literally been shocked into silence when they'd turned on the garage lights. Once he'd gotten a good look at Georgia, there was no doubt in his mind that she was a McCassey. And if he was being truthful, for just a split second, he'd thought that she might be his daughter. She looked an awful lot like him. And even though he'd guessed she was somewhere around twenty-one, the possibility that she could be his child was definitely there ... even though he was only thirty-six.

Until that moment, Judd had never regretted anything about his wild and reckless past. But just thinking about the possibility of having to explain Georgia to his wife, Dusty, had made him break out into a cold sweat. Then he wondered half-heartedly if anyone his age had ever come that close to having a heart attack.

First thing tomorrow morning, he was going to have a talk with his nine-year-old son, Jay, about responsibility and safe sex. He didn't give a damn that the kid was only in fourth grade. Jay was both book smart and street smart, meaning he was too damn smart for his own good. An immediate talk about the birds and the bees—and not having sex for the first time before you were old enough to drive a car—might someday save Jay from losing ten years off his life in a single night; like Judd had just done.

In the meantime, Judd continued to watch the exchange between Blackie and Georgia. If he hadn't already been shocked by the fact that he and his brothers had a younger, half-sister, then Blackie's actions over the past few hours would've done it.

He'd never seen Blackie so determined. Not once had he looked to Rebel, the unofficial leader of the large McCassey clan, to handle Georgia and figure out a way to solve her problems. Blackie had taken on the responsibility himself, and was doing a damn good job. But then, Judd didn't know why he was surprised. He and Rebel may have been nothing more than thorns in Blackie's side when they were kids, but Blackie had still done everything in his power to protect them from their father's violent abuse. And even though their father was dead, Blackie was now doing the same thing for Georgia that he'd done for Judd and Rebel so many years ago. He was protecting her, and doing it the only way he knew how.

"I was afraid to leave,” Georgia answered. “Each day he was gone, I thought for sure that was the day he'd come back ... probably just as I was walking out the door. I was afraid of what he'd do if he caught me."

Judd could understand why Georgia would've been afraid to suffer their father's wrath. There weren't many men capable of being as cruel, violent, and dangerous as Dolan McCassey.

With the exception of Blackie.

Although he'd calmed down a lot over the past few years, the wild and reckless Blackie, the one known as ‘The Devil', was never far below the surface. Judd wouldn't have been surprised if Blackie hadn't understood why Georgia had been afraid. At six feet, seven inches tall and nearly three hundred pounds of solid muscle, Blackie could handle himself in any situation. Georgia, on the other hand, was just a few inches over five feet and couldn't have weighed more than eighty pounds soaking wet. She looked frail, was much too thin, and wouldn't have stood a chance against their father.

But to Judd's surprise, Blackie simply nodded, seeming to understand just fine. “So you were by yourself for what, six weeks?"

Georgia shrugged. “I don't know exactly how long it was, but that sounds about right. Sometimes weeks went by when I didn't even know what day it was. I was out of it a lot."

"How'd you get the heroin you needed if the old man wasn't there?"

"Bert gave it to me."

Blackie's eyebrows furrowed and he squinted down at Georgia. “Who the hell is Bert?"

"I told you, he owns the boarding house where we were living."

Judd's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but interrupt. “You took drugs from your landlord?"

"Actually, the landlord part is just a front. He's been a drug dealer since the mid-sixties."

"Christ, Georgia, how old is this guy?"

"I don't know, Blackie, just a little older than you, I guess."

Judd stifled a chuckle when he saw the look that appeared on Blackie's face just then. Apparently, Georgia's statement must've made their older brother feel, well, old.

"But Bert's also a friend,” she hurried to try and explain. “He knew everything that went on in his house; knew about...” she paused, “...well, anyway, during the four years I was there, sometimes days would go by before Dolan would give me anything to eat or drink. So when he went out, Bert would sneak me food and water. I never ate much, but used to get really thirsty. Bert was good to me, Blackie,” she said, so convincingly that Judd actually believed her.