The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (21 page)

Georgia threw a wad of napkins at him from across the square card table. “Hey, I'll have you know that I've gained almost twenty-five pounds in the last three months. And you're one to talk about talking funny."

Blackie ignored her comment, looked her up and down, and shook his head. “Do you weigh a hundred pounds yet?"

"One hundred and five,” she said proudly, beaming with delight, “and still gaining."

To her surprise, her oldest brother nodded his approval, then joked, “Me, too."

Georgia laughed. Out of all three of her brothers, Blackie was having the hardest time since they'd all quit smoking. He'd followed through, just as he'd promised. But because he didn't like to chew gum or eat mints, he'd replaced cigarettes with food. And, she'd heard him complain to Angel that morning, had gained ten pounds in the process.

Georgia stood up and stretched, tightened her ponytail, then reached out and pulled a strand of Blackie's hair, the way the guys did to her all the time. “Yeah, well, lucky for you, all that extra weight probably just disperses itself into those massive muscles of yours. You could gain fifty pounds and no one would notice."

Looking at her like she'd gone insane, Blackie took another bite of his pizza and threw out a childish, “Nu-uh."

Georgia zipped up her sweatshirt and rolled her eyes.

"Hey,” Blackie said, swallowing, “where you goin’ in such a hurry?"

"I have something to do. Can you take me home?"

"No."

Well, that was a first. Normally, Blackie was more than happy when she was home ... where he knew she was safe, and no one would bother, look at, or talk to her. Georgia had a feeling that if Blackie could keep her under lock and key, he would. “Why not?"

Still scarfing down food, Blackie pointed to his plate. “Because I'm eating, that's why. Ask Rebel."

"Sorry, Georgia,” Rebel apologized as he gathered empty pizza boxes to stuff in the dumpster. “I can't. I'm waiting on a call from a parts distributor. Get Judd to drop you off. He was getting ready to leave anyway."

"Judd?” she called, because he was all the way across the garage.

"What?"

"Can you please take me home?"

Damn, she shouldn't have asked him. The smug look on his face told her that she was going to get much more than a simple, ‘no'.

"What?” he said, walking over and coming to a stop directly in front of her. “And ruin all that good-for-you, fun and healthy exercise you get from running? No way, sister. You wanted exercise. You've got two legs, use them."

Never taking her eyes off Judd, she smirked and called, “Hey, Kane?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your truck?"

Georgia turned around only long enough to catch the keys he threw at her. Then, making eye contact with Judd once more, she stuck her tongue out at him and called to Kane, “Thanks, see ya!” Turning her back on her brother, she strode out of the garage.

Georgia had no sooner pulled out of the parking lot in Kane's pickup truck, when Kane walked past Judd on his way to the parts shelves. As he passed, Judd reached out and not-so-gently grabbed Kane by the arm, whipping him around.

Yanking his arm from Judd's grasp, Kane shoved at his cousin's chest. “Lay off, Judd! What gives?"

Judd crossed his arms and gave Kane an evil grin, feeling smug. “You
do
know, you stupid asshole, that you just gave your truck keys to a girl who doesn't have a license, and has probably never driven a day in her life, right?"

Kane glanced from Judd, to the parking lot, and back to Judd again. Looking a little green, he made a move to walk outside, but Judd stopped him. “I sure hope she makes it back to Blackie's in one piece. It'd be a shame for something to happen to that pretty truck of yours. The one you just spent your last two paychecks fixing up and painting."

"Dammit, Judd, you could've said something! I was distracted by my work!"

"You were working?” Judd asked sarcastically. “Really? That's funny, you do so little of it, I didn't recognize that was what you were doing over there."

Judd dodged Kane's right hook, but was caught off guard by his ambidextrous cousin's left fist as it slammed into his stomach. Both men went down, but Judd didn't give a damn that Kane had bested him. The look on his face when Judd reminded him that he'd given his most prized possession to someone who didn't even have a driver's license was worth it.

He'd paid Kane back for allowing Georgia to do something Judd didn't want her to do. Now, all he had to do was figure out what kind of no good his sister was up to.

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Relief flooded through Georgia when she heard the familiar heavy southern accent on the other end of the phone agree to accept her collect call charges.

"Georgia? Lord, girl, is it really you?"

Georgia smiled. “Hi, Bert. It's me. How are you?"

"Forget about me! How the hell are you?
Where
the hell are you? When I didn't hear anything after you got to California, I thought you were dead."

"I'm not in California, Bert,” she told him. “I'm still in Maryland."

"Maryland? What are you doing there?"

Georgia took the next fifteen minutes to explain everything to her old friend. She told him every detail of what had happened from the minute he put her on the Greyhound bus, until she picked up the phone receiver to call him just a little while ago.

"You're clean?” he asked, noticeably shocked. “You found your brothers, and your old man's dead?"

"I've been clean almost a hundred days,” she said proudly. “My brother, Judd, killed Dolan with a grenade a month or so before I got here."

She heard him sigh on the other end of the line, and could almost picture him shaking his head at her as he'd done so many times before. “So all that worrying you were doing about Dolan catching you when I was trying to get you to leave was for nothing, huh?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know that. And he would've killed me if he'd caught me, Bert, you know that."

"I know. I'm just glad you're safe. So why the call?” he asked. “You need something?"

"Actually, I do. But it's not what you think."

Georgia described in detail the part that Blackie needed for his rare gun. “Do you think you can get one?"

"I don't know, Georgia, drums for those old guns are pretty hard to come by."

"Come on, Bert,” she pushed, knowing he'd always been able to get his hands on anything he needed. She didn't even want to know how, but if it existed, Bert could get it. “Please? I'd look for one myself, but I don't even know where to start."

After a long silence, he gave in. “I'll get you one,” he told her. “It's the least I can do for not listening to my gut and helping you sooner."

His sentimentality touched her. Even though his morals were a little warped and he was probably involved in more illegal activities than she could possibly imagine, Bert had a very big heart. She knew he would've helped her get away from her father if he could have, but that it had been impossible without getting himself in trouble. “You couldn't have prevented what Dolan did to me, Bert. None of it was your fault."

"Give me your address and I'll send the drum up there,” he told her, ignoring her comment. Although it was obvious he cared for her, Bert wasn't one to offer an emotional response, and she hadn't expected one. “Keep an eye on the mail; you should have it by Monday."

Monday? Wow, that was only five days away! “Thanks, Bert. I owe you one."

"Forget about it, Georgia. Like I said, it's the least I can do. I'll probably never forgive myself for letting your old man keep you here so long. I always knew I should've contacted your brothers, but—"

"It's okay, Bert. I understand why you didn't. So do they."

Blackie, Judd, and Rebel didn't exactly understand why Bert had never picked up the phone and called them, but Bert didn't need to know that. No matter what her brothers thought, he
had
helped her. If he'd never thrown her out and put her on that bus, she'd never have found her family. For that, she'd be forever grateful to him.

"All right, girl, let me go make a few calls."

"Thanks, Bert, I really appreciate it. Blackie will, too."

"Yeah, yeah. Like I said, I feel like I owe you. Keep in touch and be good, okay?"

"I will, Bert, thanks. You, too."

When they hung up, Georgia shed her sweaty running clothes and went to take a shower. It wasn't until she was finished that she realized she'd forgotten to take clean clothes into the bathroom, so she wrapped herself in a towel and opened the door with the intention of heading to her room. To her surprise, she walked out of the bathroom and collided with Blackie.

She gripped her towel tighter and took a step back. “What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"But you're supposed to be at work."

"It's nice to see you, too, Georgia,” he growled, obviously in a bad mood. “I see you made it home in one piece."

"I need to get dressed,” she said, ignoring him.

But Blackie blocked her path, refusing to allow her to pass. “It can wait."

"Blackie!"

"Why'd you go tearin’ out of the garage earlier?"

Uh-oh. “I wanted to come home."

"Why?"

"Because there was something I wanted to do! What do you care?"

"Don't make me answer that."

She looked him dead in the eye. “I'm not using heroin anymore. I've done everything I can to help all three of your families since I moved out of the garage, and I don't lie, cheat, or steal. I'm an adult, and you don't have the right to nose around in every aspect of my business! What I had to do, Blackie, was personal. You can stand here trying to intimidate me all you want, but I'm not telling you anything."

He continued to give her the evil eye for another few seconds before stepping to the side, silently telling her he was dropping the subject ... for now.

Before she stepped away, he got in the last word. “You got thirty minutes to return Kane's truck. If I catch you drivin’ without a license again, I don't give a damn how old you are, I'll beat your ass till it's black and blue. Understand?"

Okay, so he was going to discipline her for two things: taking a swing at him and driving without a license. She wasn't happy about it, but Georgia nodded because she knew Blackie wasn't fooling around. He didn't issue idle threats. If he said he was going to do something ... he'd do it.

"She's up to somethin',” Blackie told his brothers on a Wednesday afternoon, two weeks after the day Georgia had borrowed Kane's truck.

Sitting across the card table from his two brothers in the empty garage, Rebel continued flicking his lighter on and off for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Why do you think that?"

Blackie reached out and snatched the lighter from Rebel and threw it across the room. “Because I just do!” he yelled without meaning to. But he couldn't help it. He was still suffering from some serious nicotine withdrawal—which had had him on edge all week—and he was upset. He'd been watching Georgia closely since the day he'd cornered her in the hall, and knew without a doubt that something was up.

"What the hell kind of answer is that?” Judd demanded.

"She's changed, Judd."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, she's been watchin’ the damn mailbox for over a week, like she's expectin’ somethin'. And every time the mailman shows up, she's always the first one out the door."

Judd shrugged, which pissed Blackie off even more. “So what? Maybe she's waiting on a letter."

Blackie reached out and slapped Judd in the side of the head. “Wise up, asshole. Georgia ain't told none of her old friends where she's livin', so who the hell is gonna send her a letter?"

"I don't know, but there has to be some kind of explanation."

"Judd—” Rebel warned in a low voice.

When Judd jumped out of his chair, it was obvious to Blackie that he was looking for a fight. “What, Rebel? What!"

"Are you confident she's not using? I don't know the exact statistics, but I do know that a good number of heroin addicts relapse. It's a common thing, Judd. We knew there was a good chance it would happen."

Blackie watched Judd for a minute as he paced the floor, continuously running his hands through his hair and feeling bad for his younger brother. Judd was closer to Georgia than any of them, including Angel, Dusty, and Gypsy. He had an enormous soft spot when it came to their sister, and Blackie's suspicions were probably the last thing Judd had wanted to hear.

"No!” Judd shouted. “She is not using again! I'd know it, boys.
I
would know it. She hasn't changed, she's eating and laughing and acting normal. Just the other day, she had on a T-shirt and I didn't see any needle marks in her arm—"

Blackie reached out, grabbed his brother by the shoulders and literally shook him. “Judd! Georgia's an addict. Just because you ain't seen no needle tracks in her arms don't mean she ain't usin'! She could be snortin’ the heroin or smokin’ it. Hell, she could be shootin’ up between her toes and we'd never know it."

Judd's shoulders slumped, making Blackie feel like a complete asshole. He felt bad for practically talking Judd into believing that Georgia was using again, but he honestly believed she was, and knew it was better for Judd to learn the truth sooner rather than later.

Finally, Rebel spoke up. “Well, what about Wade? He sees her once a week. Don't you think he'd say something to us if he thought she was using again? Even if she could fool us, there's no way she could fool him; he's got too much experience."

Not having thought of that, Blackie considered the possibility. “I hope he would say somethin'. I don't think there's any counselor/patient confidentiality law that would prevent him from talkin’ to us."

"I think we should talk to him before we accuse Georgia of anything,” Rebel suggested.

"I tried, Reb. He was in a meetin’ when I called over there. The receptionist said he'd call back, but probably not until sometime after seven tonight. That's three hours from now, and I ain't waitin’ that long."