The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (16 page)

"Georgia!"

Gypsy's plea tore at Georgia's heart, making her wish she could've stayed. But that was impossible. Everyone might want her to stay now, but once Judd, Dusty, and the rest of the family found out what Georgia had done, they were going to want her to leave. They might even be so angry that they'd call the police.

She didn't want to go to jail, and it would be over her dead body that she'd allow herself to be sent there.

So engrossed in her need to escape, Georgia almost missed Gypsy's announcement that Blackie, Judd, and Rebel had arrived.
Oh no! How am I going to get out of here, now?
She hadn't had a tour of the house, so she had no idea whether or not there was a back door. Her best bet—if she could get there before her brothers got out of their trucks—was to leave the way she'd come in, which was through the front door. From there, she could run and hide in the woods until they gave up looking for her.

All she had to do was get outside.

Georgia ran the rest of the way down the hall and flung the front door open just as Judd and Rebel were coming up the sidewalk. She didn't take the time to wonder where Blackie was before breaking into a run and trying to dodge past them. But Rebel was quick, and he caught her around the waist as she slammed into his chest. “Hold on, Georgia!” he hollered as she struggled to free herself. “Calm down!"

But she couldn't calm down. She had to get away.

Fueled by adrenaline, she used all the strength she could muster—which wasn't much—but managed to get in a lucky strike, elbowing Rebel in the gut hard enough that he grunted and momentarily loosened his hold, allowing her to squirm out of his embrace.

Now headed toward the woods, she ran right past Judd, who was standing still, staring at her in disbelief.

Once she made it to the woods, she'd be home free.

Salvation in sight, Georgia picked up her pace and—surprised to find that she hadn't lost all of her athletic ability—vaulted the white picket fence as she headed for the trees.

She was almost there when Blackie stepped out from behind the house.

Not expecting the roadblock, Georgia didn't have time to stop herself before she ran head-on into his brick wall of a body.

In a one-handed grip, he grabbed onto her arm so hard that the pain stopped her cold. Teeth clenched, he yanked her upward, actually lifting her off the ground, and leaned down into her face. “Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

Georgia struggled to break free much the same way she had the night the guys had caught her at the garage, but Blackie refused to let go.

Frustrated at not being able to go anywhere, she went crazy. Thrashing and flinging her arms and legs, she did everything she could to loosen his hold. But Blackie was too strong. It appeared that it was taking him little or no effort to keep her restrained, whereas all she was succeeding in doing was wearing herself out.

When she stopped momentarily to catch her breath, Blackie was obviously fooled into believing she'd given up the fight, and finally loosened his hold. The instant he let his guard down, she came up swinging as she struggled to break free again, catching him in the jaw with a hard right hook. “Son of a bitch!” he roared, releasing her as he was momentarily distracted.

Knowing that would probably be her only opportunity to flee, Georgia turned to run, but made it no further than a single step before Blackie reached out with his long arm and grabbed the front of her shirt, raising her entire body into the air again as he pulled her to him. When she looked up at him, she noticed that his right arm was pulled back, and she was face to face with his enormous fist.

Anger and violence burned in his eyes, making her wonder if he would really take a swing and unleash his fury on her.

If he did, it was because she deserved it.

"Do it!” she screamed. “Do it!” But he didn't move. Instead, with his fist still clenched just inches from her face, he stood perfectly still, breathing heavily and staring at her.

"Blackie!” Angel yelled from somewhere behind them.

Frozen in place, Blackie ignored his wife and continued staring at Georgia.

"Hit me!” she dared him, knowing full well that with the raw power and strength behind his punches, just one would be enough to kill her.

"Blackie, stop!” Angel called again as she ran up beside them. Neither Georgia nor Blackie, whose eyes were deadlocked on one another, acknowledged her.

Unnerved by his terrifying silence, tears of frustration formed in Georgia's eyes.

Another second or two passed before he seemed to calm down enough to talk. Unfortunately for her, he was still seething. “I ought to kick your ass, little girl,” he threatened.

Allowing the tears to flow and making no move to wipe them away, Georgia leaned an inch closer to his fist. “Then do it already!” she yelled, honestly wishing he would put her out of her misery. “I deserve it, so just do it, you coward!"

Moving for the first time, Blackie brought his fist back as if he really was going to hit her. Refusing to cower, Georgia held his gaze and stood her ground. She was going to watch that fist come in and make contact with her face if it was the last thing she ever did ... which it probably would be.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion.

Since Georgia's attention was focused on Blackie, she didn't see Judd and Rebel coming at them until they opened their arms, lowered their heads, and used the full force of their strength to tackle Blackie.

Although he hadn't been expecting their assault, it was obvious that Blackie had plenty of combat experience—for even as he was going down, he never loosened his hold on Georgia. Falling along with them, the force of their momentum rendered her powerless. With Blackie still grasping her shirt, the four of them became one, and Georgia fully expected to be crushed under her brother's combined total weight of close to eight hundred pounds. But at the last second—almost as if he knew exactly where she was and what was happening—Judd removed one of his arms from around Blackie's waist and used it to shove Georgia to the side.

All four of them landed with a loud thud, Georgia just inches away from the boys. Every bone in her still practically emaciated body screamed in pain as it came into contact with the hard, frozen ground.

Trying to get her bearings, she lay perfectly still for what seemed like an eternity. Once the initial pain caused by her landing began to fade, Georgia opened her eyes and glanced a few feet away to where her brothers were lying in heap, Judd and Rebel still firmly pinning Blackie to the ground.

"If you two assholes don't get the fuck off me in the next two seconds,” he warned, “I'm gonna kill you both."

Although the statement sent chills down Georgia's spine and would've had her scrambling to get up if it'd been her lying on top of Blackie, neither Judd nor Rebel seemed affected by the threat.

Sure she was safe from Blackie for the moment, Georgia lay back down and rolled onto her left side, doing her best to hide her face. The tears that had begun falling while she and Blackie were yelling at each other came more easily now. They rolled over her nose and down the left side of her face, and she did nothing to stop them.

Why should she? After all, she was sad.

"I'm warnin’ you boys,” she heard Blackie's threatening voice again, and also heard movement. Even though she didn't look to see what was happening, she knew Judd and Rebel had decided to let him up.

What was going to happen now?

Before she could contemplate her fate another moment, Georgia felt someone lay a hand on her right shoulder. “Georgia?"

It was Judd.

She wanted to answer him, she really did. But the genuine concern in his voice only made her sob harder at the thought of what she was about to lose. She loved him, and knew that he loved her. But all that would change as soon as she told him what had happened on that cold, dark night down in southern Virginia a couple years ago.

Judd was going to hate her. So were Blackie and Rebel and all her sisters-in-law, especially Dusty.

Feeling sorry for herself and unable to control her sobs, Georgia allowed Judd to roll her over. Then he helped her up and pulled her into his arms. The awkward way they were sitting on the ground made it difficult to find a comfortable position. But somehow, she managed to twist her body around his, wrap her arms around his neck, and settle in with her head resting on his broad shoulder.

Georgia had yearned for comfort—craved it—as long as she could remember. And finally, after all these years, she'd found it.

"Georgia?” he said again.

Didn't he know she had no intention of answering?

"Is she hurt?” she heard Rebel ask.

Judd answered him with a shrug. “I don't know, bro, I can't get her to talk to me."

Rebel touched her shoulder, but she ignored him, continuing to sob and feel sorry for herself. Why? Why now that she had found everything she'd ever wanted, was it going to be taken away from her?

It wasn't fair.

Judd sat still with her in his arms until Blackie's loud, sharp, “Georgia!” caused her to jump.

"Lay off, Blackie,” Judd ordered.

"Oh, I don't think so,” Blackie said sarcastically; the volume of his deep, intimidating voice increasing with every word. “I wanna know what the hell is goin’ on, godammit, and I wanna know now!"

With that, Georgia knew it was time. Even though Blackie was the only one who'd spoken up, she knew they all wanted an explanation; that they deserved one.

She sniffed, lifted her head from Judd's shoulder, wiped her eyes, and looked at Rebel. “I'm okay."

"Good,” Blackie spat, “now explain why the fuck the three of us got a call ten minutes ago about you flippin’ out. What gives?"

Unwinding herself from Judd, the two of them stood and brushed themselves off. Then, ignoring everyone else, she reached out and touched his forearm to get his attention. The instant he looked at her, fresh tears began rolling down her cheeks.

She didn't want to lose him, lose his love.

But she was going to, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

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Up until Dusty had come back into his life two months earlier, until he discovered that he had a nine-year-old son and how easily everything that had been given to him could be taken away, Judd never realized he had it in him to be even the least bit emotional.

But he did.

And now that he had a younger sister who obviously and openly adored him, he pretty much considered himself capable of being quite, for lack of a better word, sappy.

Those kinds of feelings were murder on the reputation, but right this minute, Judd didn't give a damn. Georgia was hurting, and his heart was breaking for her.

Ignoring the fact that Blackie, Rebel, and all their wives were watching, Judd stepped forward and cupped her face, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears. “Talk to me, Georgia,” he said quietly, “tell me what's wrong."

She reached up and tentatively touched the back of his hand, then let her arm fall back down to her side. “I'm so sorry, Judd!"

"Sorry for what, Georgia? What did you do?"

"I was there,” she cried, “at the house. That night. I was there!"

House? What was she talking about? “What house, honey; where were you?"

"At the house,” she cried again, “Dusty's house."

"You've never been to Dusty's house, Georgia. It was blown up when the old man tried to kill us. The boys and I are rebuilding it now; that's why Dusty, me, and Jay are living here with Rebel and Gypsy."

"No.” She shook her head, sobbing almost uncontrollably. “Not that house. The one in ... Virginia. The one that burned down. It was all my fault!"

Well that was an interesting bit if information.

What could possibly have happened to make Georgia think that was her fault? Unless...

Out of the corner of his eye, Judd saw Blackie—who had been silent for a record-breaking sixty seconds—furrow his brows, look at Georgia, and holler, “What!"

Afraid Blackie was going to scare Georgia—who nearly jumped out of her skin every time their older brother raised his voice—into silence, Judd turned to him and yelled, “Shut up!"

Surprisingly, he did.

Turning his attention back to Georgia, Judd tried to figure out which question to ask first. He was saved when she continued. “He made me go. Dolan. In the middle of the night. I'd been giving him a hard time then; I had tried to run away earlier that day. He said he wanted me to see what happened to people who didn't do what he wanted.” Then she turned to Dusty, who had come to stand next to Judd. “I'm so sorry, Dusty! I tried to stop him, but I couldn't! If only I'd listened! If I hadn't tried to escape, your sister wouldn't have died!"

She had begun to shiver.

Judd wasn't sure if it was because she was so upset, or because it was so cold outside and all she was wearing was his old threadbare sweatshirt.

He wanted to suggest that they go inside, but was afraid that pausing the momentum she had for telling the story might put a stop to it all together.

Although he was anxious to hear the rest of Georgia's story, Judd knew that there was no way anything that happened to Dusty and her sisters was Georgia's fault. By remaining calm, he hoped to let her know that. “Tell us what happened, honey."

"I was sound asleep when he dragged me out of bed,” Georgia started to explain. “And it was dark that night.” She sniffed, and, for the first time, wiped at her tears with her sleeve. “So dark I could barely see. He had a flashlight, but wouldn't give me one, so I had to stay close to him. I didn't know what he was planning to do; I thought maybe he was just going to vandalize the house or something, but—"

"But what?"

"He pulled out a glass bottle filled with liquid. It had a rag sticking out the top. He called it a—"

"Molotov Cocktail,” Judd finished her sentence. Throwing those firebombs had been his father's favorite way of blowing things up and burning buildings to the ground.

She nodded. “Yeah, that's what he called it. I didn't know what it was or where he'd gotten it, because I didn't see it the whole time we were riding in his truck."