The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (26 page)

To make matters worse, if, on the off chance that she did happen to return his feelings, her brothers—mainly Blackie—would put an end to that ... probably by putting an end to Wade's life.

But that would never happen.

Georgia was better now and had her entire life in front of her. Blackie, Judd, and Rebel were seeing to it that she got her graduation equivalence degree, and Georgia had mentioned that they were trying to talk her into taking some classes at Hagerstown Community College. She had no business keeping company with Wade. She was better than that. He would only drag her down.

Rather enjoying his self-pity party, Wade continued down the street. The sun had almost completely set, and the temperature was now dropping rapidly. The dealers and junkies hovering in the doorways and shadows of the alleys would soon be seeking refuge in the warmth of the bus station, as he himself had done many times when he was a homeless addict.

More down on himself than he'd been in a long time, Wade wondered half-heartedly what kind of an effect shooting up again would have on his body. Could he handle it? Would he be able to just use the drug once and walk away? And if not, was a few hours of ecstasy worth throwing away everything he'd worked so hard to accomplish?

Hardly able to believe what he was considering, Wade stopped in front of one of the houses. Staring at the boarded-up doorway, he knew that all he had to do to get in was slide one of the loose boards to the side. He knew that in a matter of minutes, the same amount of money that bought him lunch everyday would buy him enough heroin to make him forget his troubles ... at least for a little while.

Mentally reprimanding himself the entire way, Wade took one, two, three steps toward the door. He walked until a shrill scream from somewhere inside the house stopped him dead in his tracks. A scream followed by a voice that was eerily familiar...

"You've got two choices, honey,” the man told Georgia. “You can either pay cold hard cash, or,” he reached out and seductively ran his hand down her bare arm, “you can have it in trade. Your choice, but make it quick. I don't have all day."

Fighting the urge to vomit, Georgia shivered as the man's hand ran the length of her arm. She wanted to get high, needed to get high. She craved the numbness that the heroin would give her; needed it to help her forget that she'd just lost her family and any chance she had at a normal, happy life. Her brothers already thought she'd relapsed, so if they happened to find out where she was and what she was doing, they wouldn't be surprised. And if she happened to do too much and overdosed, they wouldn't care. Why would they? Blackie had thrown her out and Judd and Rebel hadn't done anything to stop him. They obviously didn't love her like she thought they had.

But drugs cost money, and Georgia didn't have any. The dealer she'd found had offered to give her what she needed, but at a price she wasn't sure she was willing to pay. She'd have to have sex with him, and that was something she didn't want to do ... with anyone. She could barely stand the thought of another strange man touching the most intimate parts of her body.

"Look,” the middle-aged, surprisingly well-dressed man said as he started to leave the room, “when you decide, you come find me. Until then, I have paying customers I need to see to."

When Georgia realized that he was leaving with the one thing she knew would make her feel better, her decision was suddenly very easy to make. “Wait!” she said when he turned his back to leave, “I'll do it."

The slow smile that crept across his face gave Georgia the chills. When she realized that there was no going back, she also realized that it didn't matter, because she had nothing to go back to.

The man, whose name she'd already forgotten, walked farther into the room and came to a stop in front of her. He reached into the vest pocket of his jacket, pulled out a small plastic baggie, and dangled it in front of her. She reached for it, but he yanked it away.

"Sorry, honey, I have my fun first then you can have yours."

No way. That wasn't the way it worked and he knew it. “No deal,” she spoke firmly, and turned away. “I can get what I need from any one of a hundred dealers along Franklin Street. I don't need to stand here and play games with you."

When she started to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. “Fine,” he spat, shifting her around to face him, “here you go."

He let go, then shoved the bag, along with a rubber tourniquet, and the other things she needed, into her hands. “You've got two minutes. If you're not finished by the time I come back, that's too damn bad."

The man slammed the door on his way out, but Georgia didn't care whether he was mad or not. She'd gotten what she wanted, and in a few minutes, he would, too.

Taking a seat on the mattress, Georgia set everything next to her and inspected it. Then, going through the motions as she had so many times before, she tied the tourniquet tightly around her upper left arm and got to work preparing the syringe.

When she found a good vein, Georgia took a deep breath, inserted the needle, and emptied the syringe. As the familiar, euphoric feeling washed over her, she pulled the needle out of her arm and dropped it to the floor.

She had just untied the tourniquet and leaned back onto the mattress when she heard the door open. The man was back, and he wanted payment for what he'd given her.

It'll be easier now, she thought. Easier to forget about what had happened at Blackie's house, and easier to pay the price for what she'd just done. She was numb, and right now, there was no better feeling than not feeling anything at all.

On her back with her eyes closed, Georgia was only vaguely aware of her shirt being pushed up to her to her neck and her bra being unfastened. She jumped slightly when warm hands cupped her breasts and rough fingers pinched her nipples, but she put it out of her mind, concentrating on anything she could in order to forget what he was about to do to her.

Then, suddenly, he let go. Georgia relaxed even more when she felt his weight leave the mattress, and gave in even more to the peace that had spread through her.

Her eyes still closed, she prayed she would pass out before he decided to do anything else to her.

The room was silent until, from somewhere too close for comfort, Georgia heard him unzip his pants. Georgia's eyes flew open. When she noticed the man straddling her—his large erection only inches from her face—she suddenly understood what he wanted her to do. “No,” she slurred.

The man laughed and reached out to caress the side of her face. “Oh, yes, you're going to do it, and you're going to love it."

The hell she was. He was going to have to kill her before she gave him head. Gathering what little energy she could, she yelled, “No!” and tried to sit up.

"Get down!” He pushed her and moved farther onto her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. “You'll do as I say, or I'll kill you right here and now."

She decided that was an acceptable alternative to what he originally had in mind, and gave him encouragement. “Go ahead,” she told him weakly, “kill me."

He sighed, and Georgia wanted to laugh. He obviously hadn't been expecting that.

In turn, she hadn't been expecting the hard slap to the left side of her face; the same side where Blackie had slapped her earlier.

"Stupid bitch!” he yelled, then slid off her chest.

Georgia closed her eyes again and lay back down. She thought for a second that he was either giving up on her and leaving, or that he really was going to kill her.

Then she felt his hands close tightly around her ankles and felt her legs being spread apart. Before she could react, his knees were between her legs holding them open, and he was fumbling with the button on her jeans.

Her eyes opened again, and suddenly, the man she saw in front of her wasn't someone she was paying back for heroin. He was Dolan McCassey, and she was a scared fifteen-year-old kid trapped in the front seat of a pickup truck with a man who'd torn her clothes off and shoved her down onto the seat. She'd screamed back when her father had started raping her, but no one had heard her. Now, they were in a house with other people. If she screamed, there was a good chance someone would hear.

Doing what she could to struggle against him, Georgia took a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could, hoping to draw attention to what was going on.

"Shut up, you goddamn bitch!"

Georgia's body was tired and lethargic from the heroin, and she was powerless to defend herself as the man tore at her jeans, pulling them down past her knees.

"Get off of me!” she screamed again, hoping someone, anyone, would hear her.

"I said, shut up!” he yelled.

Still struggling, Georgia cringed when the man grabbed his hard member and moved closer to her. Using his arms to prop himself up, he was just about to enter her when the door flew open, ricocheting off the wall with a loud ‘boom'.

Startled by the sound, both Georgia and the man froze, and turned their heads in the direction of the door. Relief, followed by fear and mortification flowed through her.

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Oh God, oh God.
“Wade!” she screamed as he slammed the door closed behind him.

Wade ignored her and crossed the room in four long strides, stopping only when he reached the mattress. Without saying a word, he lifted his booted foot, kicking the man in the side so powerfully that he actually flew off of Georgia's body and landed on the floor.

"Hey!” the man yelled hoarsely as he gulped for air, “this is private business!"

"Nothing's private business when someone's screams can be heard all the way out on the street,” Wade said through clenched teeth as he hauled the man—whose pants were down around his ankles—to his feet by the front of his shirt. “And it sure as hell isn't private business when you're upstairs in an abandoned house with your pants down, trying to stick your dick in an unwilling girl!"

"Hey, man, she asked for it!"

After landing a punch in the man's gut, causing him to grunt and once again struggle to breathe, Wade took a moment to spare a glance down at Georgia, who, up until that point, had been too terrified to move. “Get dressed,” he ordered, coldly.

As she struggled to do as she'd been told, Wade continued to punish the man, landing punch after punch as he held him in the air by the front of his shirt. “She owes ... me ... dammit,” he tried to explain, but Wade never stopped to listen; never even let up.

Splatters of the man's blood began landing on both Georgia and the mattress as Wade beat him. Still, Wade was relentless. “Do you have any idea who you just tried to rape?” he hollered, in the midst of his rage. The man didn't attempt to give an answer that time, but Georgia had a feeling Wade hadn't been expecting one. “This girl is a McCassey, asshole. When her family finds out what you tried to do, you're a dead man."

When she'd gotten her jeans pulled up and buttoned, she righted her shirt and rolled to the side, trying to get up. When she was finally standing, Georgia reached out and used the wall for support as she took a good look at the man, who was slumped and unconscious.

"Wade,” she said to try and stop him, but he was still ignoring her as he continued the beating. “Wade!” she yelled louder; this time hearing the panic in her own voice. “You're going to kill him!"

That time, he did stop.

When Wade let go, the man fell to the floor in a bloody heap. Wade kicked him a few times, then turned his attention to the bed, ripping part of the sheet off the mattress and using it to wipe the blood from his hands.

When they were reasonably clean, he turned to Georgia. Cupping her face with his hands, he bent down to her level. “Are you all right?"

She nodded, because it wasn't until that very second that exactly what had been happening hit her. And when it did, she had to force herself to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat in order to be able to breathe. Then she started to cry.

"Not now, Georgia,” Wade ordered in a hasty, hurried voice as he backed away from her and glanced down into the street through a hole in the wood covering the window.

She wiped at her tears, watching him closely and wondering what he was doing. Why was he looking out the window? Why did he seem so nervous?

"We have to go,” he told her, his tone void of emotion, “now. Can you walk?"

Unable to find her voice, she nodded again.

"Good,” he said, then quickly removed his flannel shirt and not-so-gently wrapped it around her. “Put this on."

He gave her less than five seconds to slip her arms into the sleeves and button the shirt before he started giving her instructions again. “Listen to me, Georgia, and listen good. There are a lot of people downstairs. I ran past them on the way up here, and since they didn't follow me, there's a good chance they won't bother us on the way out, but you never know. I'll go first,” he told her. “Stay as close behind me as you can. Keep your head down. Don't look at anyone on the way out, don't talk to anyone, and for Christ's sake, don't stop, no matter what, until we're out of the house. Understand?"

That time, he didn't bother to wait for an answer. “Give me your hand,” he told her, and she did.

Without looking back, Wade squeezed Georgia's hand and practically dragged her out of the room and into the hall. He moved quickly down the steps, using his body to push past three men loitering at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey!” one of them called, “don't you and your girl want to stay and party with us?"

Wade ignored them and continued heading for the loose board covering the front door. They were almost there, almost home free, when a man the size of Blackie stepped forward and blocked their path. “The party's just getting started; why don't you two stay a while?"

Without releasing Georgia's hand, Wade leaned forward. Using his weight to pin the man's body against the wall, Wade jammed his right forearm against the man's Adam's Apple. “We're leaving,” he said matter-of-factly, “and we can either do it around you, or through you. Your choice."