The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (11 page)

And if she didn't overdose, chances were good that someone would've taken a ‘liking’ to her and that would have been the last anyone saw of Georgia Virginia McCassey.

Wade had known Georgia was unique from the moment he met her—smartass comments and all. Even as sick as she was right now, she still had spunk. She'd been ready to tell him off, and would have, had her brothers not put a stop to it.

He didn't know why her actions had surprised him. Blackie, Judd, and Rebel didn't necessarily need alcohol; they could
talk
a man under the table. Each one always had an answer for everything, and if they were so angry at someone that they were ready to fight, anything and everything was fair game.

Wade figured Georgia was probably the same way.

It didn't matter that she hadn't grown up with the boys. She was a McCassey. They were all battle-ready warriors, born and bred. Judging by the hard time she'd given him with her brothers standing there, where they could, and did, reprimand her for her actions, Wade didn't have any doubt that had the boys sent him up to the apartment alone, Georgia's sharp tongue would've ripped him to shreds in minutes.

She still had fight left in her.

That was why he already respected her.

Why he now knew there was a good chance that he could help her.

She hadn't given up yet, hadn't given in to the pull of a world where she knew she'd no longer be miserable. According to what he'd been told, she'd apparently come close to taking her own life that morning, which was why Rebel had called him.

Although Wade wouldn't know how close to the truth their opinion was until he actually had the opportunity to sit down and talk to Georgia. There was one thing he knew for sure; she wasn't meant to die a nineteen-year-old heroin addict.

The sound of creaking wood floorboards outside the apartment door captured Wade's attention, pulling him from his thoughts. He raised his head and looked up just in time to see Georgia, who appeared to be feeling much better than she did a few minutes ago, cross the threshold. Once she'd closed the door behind her, she looked at him, opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it.

"What?” he said, deciding they could wind up sitting in silence all day if one of them didn't break the ice. “You can't think of a single nice thing to say to me after I not only dragged my ass out of bed to come and see you, but also stood here holding your hair back while you puked?"

She was walking toward him, albeit slowly, and Wade decided that she was either angry enough about his presence to slap him, or she was going to torture him with silence until one, or all, of her brothers came upstairs and forced her to talk.

"I didn't ask you to come here,” she stated matter-of-factly, as she passed him and rounded the corner of the bed, climbing onto the mattress at the spot farthest away from him.

Even though he knew what she'd been through at the hands of both her father and other men, it still surprised Wade that she'd gone to such an effort to avoid contact with him.

He wondered if being around men was really that unsettling for her; or if it was just him who was upsetting her.

Once she was settled in bed and leaning back against the headboard, Georgia pulled the sheet up until it was covering her legs, then looked at him. “But I'm glad you did."

Well that was a surprise. So much, in fact, that Wade didn't know how to respond ... so he didn't.

Georgia sighed and grabbed hold of a handful of the sheet, as if holding onto the material was giving her confidence. “I want my life back, Wade,” she said, staring at him with her royal blue eyes. “I want to be the person I was four years ago: the girl who had friends and was happy, and—"

Why did she stop? He tilted his head in question. “And what?"

Her gaze suddenly left his, and was now focused on the bed sheet. “Nothing."

"Georgia?"

"Nothing,” she repeated harshly, lifting her gaze to look at him once again. “I just want to feel normal again."

Wade decided to take advantage of the fact that she seemed to be in the mood to talk, and didn't even bother taking one last drag on his cigarette before leaning over and dropping it into the longneck bottle on the nightstand ... which was already a quarter of the way filled with butts. He smiled to himself; wondering whose bright idea it'd been to recycle the bottle and forego the ashtray.

Returning to his sitting position on the edge of the bed, Wade cleared his throat. “I was a heroin addict for six years before I went to prison for heroin possession, illegal possession of a firearm, as well as armed robbery,” he told Georgia in a soft voice. “Unlike your brother, Blackie, who didn't really need the money he stole from the liquor store the last time he went to prison, I needed the cash desperately."

With his eyes on Georgia, who was silently staring at him, Wade continued. “I was shooting up almost four bags a day back then. Things eventually got so bad that I couldn't even enjoy my highs anymore. As soon as I shot up, I'd immediately start worrying about how I was going to get my next fix. I'd lie, cheat, steal ... anything to get my hands on enough money to buy a bag of heroin.

"I robbed Cut Rate Liquors down on Franklin Street with a stolen M-16. The judge kept me behind bars while I awaited trial, so I had to detox cold turkey in the maximum security prison in Cumberland—"

Wade stopped speaking when Georgia's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak.

"You mean—” she started to question, but cut herself short.

"That's right,” Wade confirmed with a nod. “I know exactly how you feel right now, Georgia; how you've been feeling the past five days. I can't help you with the physical part of your detox; that's something your body needs to go through. I can't stop it, and I can't make it better. I can't do much about the mental part, either. The issues and anger you feel toward your father need to be worked out with a professional.

"What I can do is help you with the emotional part. I've been where you are; know all the questions you have and the answers you need."

He stopped talking then, but kept his eyes on her, watching, waiting for some kind of indication that she was at least considering his offer.

"You can trust me, Georgia. Not only are my lying days over, but a man would have to be crazy to try and put one over on you knowing what your brothers are like. Those boys are three of the biggest bad asses in the county, and someone would have to be crazy to cross them. They sure do love you a lot. They wouldn't have called me if they didn't."

"They might like me,” she said, breaking her silence, “but they can't love me. They don't even know me."

Wade actually laughed, causing Georgia's expression to turn sour.

"Sorry,” he apologized, “I didn't laugh because what you said was funny."

Never changing the look on her face, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and squinted at him, which showed exactly how angry she really was. “Then why did you?"

Well, at least she's talking.
“Look, I know you're new to Hagerstown and the McCassey family, and that you don't know much about how things are around here, but trust me when I say that your brothers love you."

"Why should I trust you? I don't even know you. We're not family, Wade. You and I aren't related; you're my brothers’ cousin, not mine."

"You can trust me because Blackie, Judd, and Rebel trust me. They wouldn't let me within a hundred yards of their sister if any of them thought for one second that I would hurt her."

Still looking as though she didn't believe a word he'd said, Georgia continued to play devil's advocate. “They don't know for sure that I'm their sister."

Wade laughed again; this time with no apology. “Are you kidding? If that royal blue color of your eyes wasn't enough to give you away as a McCassey, then the fact that you look enough like Judd to be his twin certainly does.

"Christ, Georgia, I did a double take when I first saw you. Sure, you're a little scrawny, your face is sunken in, and you have dark circles under your eyes, but even looking as bad as you do right now, a blind man could see you're their sister."

"Blackie said the same thing."

Wade nodded. “He was right."

Georgia was staring quietly at him again, and he wondered what that meant this time. Maybe she was angry about how he'd described her looks. Even though the description he'd given her was dead on, he hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. Hopefully, her temper wasn't anything like those of her brothers. Georgia might not be feeling well right now, but that didn't mean she wouldn't muster all her energy and blow up at him. One high-pitched shriek from her, and every man down in the garage would come running. In that case, Wade would have no choice but to dive out the window.

Death by concrete would be far more merciful than anything Blackie, Judd, and Rebel would unleash on him.

"Do I really look that bad?” she asked, shocking Wade. And at that moment, Wade got his first glimpse of the real Georgia, the girl who was probably in the bathroom earlier staring at her reflection in the mirror, unable to recognize the person staring back at her.

"For a heroin addict suffering through withdrawal, you're not bad at all. Your appearance isn't anything a little food, sunlight, and about thirty or forty pounds of weight gain couldn't take care of."

Georgia was quiet for a minute as she seemed to be considering what he'd said.

"If I let you stay and help me, will you do something else for me, too?"

"Maybe,” he told her. “If I can. What is it?"

"I want you to tell me about my family ... about the McCasseys; not only my brothers, but my aunts, uncles, and cousins, too. I want to know who they are, what they've all done, and why the boys are so widely feared. I want to know everything."

Wade let out an extended sigh. She had no idea what she was asking. “That's a tall order, Georgia. Everything? Are you sure?"

She nodded.

Wade wasn't so sure her brothers wanted her to know
everything
. Although chances were, if she hung around Hagerstown long enough, she'd hear all the stories and then some. He didn't know every gory detail of the McCassey's lives, but would be able to tell Georgia enough so that she'd have a fairly good idea about who and what her family was, and why they were both feared and hated at the same time.

"It's a deal,” he agreed, knowing that in the end, her health was far more important than whether or not she knew the truth about her family's past. “I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Now?"

"Yes,” he reluctantly agreed, “now. But not until you promise to trust and listen to me; do what I tell you when I tell you to do it, keeping in mind that I'm here to do what's best for you."

She considered his offer for all of a second and a half before nodding and extending her hand, shaking his with a surprisingly firm grip.

After they let go of each other, Wade reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his pack of Winston's. He removed one, set the pack on the bed, then leaned forward and snagged the longneck off the nightstand. No doubt this was going to be more than just a one-cigarette conversation. “Where do you want me to start?"

Georgia picked up one of the extra pillows and hugged it to her, then rested back against the headboard, making herself comfortable. With what Wade knew was a genuine smile—and he was right, it was beautiful—Georgia simply said, “At the beginning."

Damn, that was a long way back.

Good thing he had an extra pack of Winston's in his other pocket.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Georgia had decided to let Wade help her long before he agreed to tell her about the McCassey family history; she'd just thrown that in as a bonus because she knew her brothers would never tell her what she wanted to know.

Now, she wasn't so sure that'd been a good idea.

After listening to Wade talk almost non-stop for nearly three hours, Georgia's head was spinning. She'd paid close attention to everything he'd said, gasping and wincing inwardly at some of the horrifying, violent stories.

Georgia honestly hadn't expected to hear that a good number of her ancestors were army deserters and outlaws. She was also shocked to learn that a lot of the women in the McCassey family had named their children after American outlaws since so many of them grew up to be criminals and felons.

What surprised her most were the stories he'd told about Blackie, Judd, and Rebel. No wonder people were scared to death of them. “They've all ... killed people?” she'd asked when Wade finished telling the tale of how her brothers, two of their uncles, and three of their cousins had rescued Gypsy from her father.

"There was a heavy gun battle up at Ten Acres that day, Georgia. They had no choice; it was either kill or be killed."

"Were you there, too?"

He shook his head. “No, but Brady and Kane had too much to drink one night while we were sitting at Digger's bar a few years ago and told me all about it. The story in town is that Rebel, Frank, Jimmy, and Flynn took on Gypsy's father and all his men by themselves. It had to be hidden from the law that Blackie, Judd, Brady, and Kane were there, too, because they were all either on parole or probation."

Wow.
“And when the guys went to the Renegades’ camp to find Angel, they killed men then, too?"

"Everyone knows that Angel doesn't like to kill, but she took out a couple that day, too, including Prince, the leader."

"Because he was about to shoot Blackie, right?"

Wade nodded. “I told you your brothers were tough, didn't I? The three of them are the stuff legends are made of."

Interesting.
“It sounds like you admire them, too."

"I do,” he admitted. “To a point. I'm not as wild as they are. Never was. Most, if not all of the trouble I got into happened during the days of my addiction. But I do admire the love and respect they have for each other, their loyalty toward one another, and the fact that they're all happily married."

"But?"

"But nothing. Aside from most of the townspeople looking down on them, a fact that none of them seem to give a damn about, they pretty much have it all."