The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] (32 page)

"She's already forgiven us, Judd,” Rebel chimed in, finally. “She wouldn't be coming here otherwise."

Judd shrugged and sat down. In a quieter voice, he said, “I sure as hell hope you're right, Reb, because things haven't been too happy in my house the past ten days. I've got a nine-year-old kid who refuses to talk to me because of what I did—or rather, didn't do—when Blackie flipped out on Georgia, and a pregnant wife who's so damn hormonal that she's been crying everyday since Georgia left. You both know that Dusty doesn't normally cry, but she's shed enough tears the past week and a half to fill an entire fucking water tower."

Finished with his rant, Judd flashed each of his brothers a dirty look and leaned forward in the chair, burying his head in his hands. He heard their quiet chuckles, but chose to ignore them. In truth, he knew that things at their houses hadn't been much better since Georgia left, either, so their razzing didn't bother him ... much.

All three of them were sitting in silence, which gave Blackie a good ten minutes to think about everything Judd had said ... and wonder where the hell all that wisdom had suddenly come from.

It was true that Blackie couldn't have done anything to save Georgia when Dolan took her. That was just something he was going to have to get over.

He'd done his best to help and protect her once she'd shown up in Hagerstown, but knew now that, because he'd felt guilty for past events he'd had no control over, he'd made more than a few mistakes where she was concerned.

It was also true that Judd and Rebel owed her an apology, but Blackie knew
he
was the one who needed the most forgiveness. He'd realized recently that he'd been so angry the day of their fight because he loved her so much; because he wanted her to have a good life. When he thought she was throwing it all away—as he'd done with his life—he lost control. But there was no excuse for hitting his sister. None.

The one bright spot in the whole situation had been his cousin, Wade. He'd come through not only for Georgia, but for Blackie, Judd, and Rebel, as well. He'd been there for Georgia when her brothers weren't; when they couldn't be. He'd saved her life and brought her back to them ... twice. The two of them had spent a lot of time together; shared a lot of things. In the pit of his stomach, Blackie had a sinking feeling about where Wade and Georgia's relationship was headed, but wasn't ready to think about it.

"It's been twenty minutes since we talked to Wade,” Rebel announced, breaking the silence, “does anyone think we should go look for her?"

Judd raised his head from his hands and scratched his head. “No. If we do that, she'll know Wade called us. I don't want to put him in that kind of position. Right now, he's probably the only person she trusts; it wouldn't be fair for us to ruin that."

Blackie had other ideas, but never got the chance to voice them. Before he could open his mouth, a loud ‘boom’ from somewhere outside got their attention, causing all three brothers to jump from their seats in alarm.

"That sounded close,” Rebel announced, peeking through the curtain and out into the night.

Blackie headed straight for Rebel's gun cabinet, knowing full well that the sound wasn't thunder, and had nothing to do with the storm that was now raging outside. “That was a .357,” he said, surprised his voice was so calm. “Wade gave Georgia one when she left his apartment. If she fired it, she's in trouble."

While Rebel ushered Gypsy, Dusty, and Angel, who had congregated in the kitchen, into the basement and told them to stay put, Blackie grabbed the loaded .357's Rebel kept on top of his gun cabinet. Keeping one for himself, he tossed one to each of his brothers as they filed out the door.

Cold, pouring raindrops pelted them in the face as they ran into the yard. “Split up in case there's more than one,” Blackie yelled over the sound of the storm.

Judd suddenly grabbed Blackie's arm to keep him from going anywhere. “No!” he shouted. “Look! Over there!” He pointed to something moving in the driveway twenty yards away.

"Cover me,” Blackie ordered, tossing his gun to Judd, and taking off at a dead run.

As he got close, he could see them. Georgia was on the ground in the mud struggling to get away; whoever had attacked her was just strong enough to keep her pinned down.

Not for long.

It wasn't until he was almost upon them that the man seemed to notice Blackie charging toward him. He had no time to move or react as Blackie's right hand reached down to haul him off of Georgia—which he did by wrapping his hand around the man's throat and lifting him into the air.

Only momentarily satisfied by the choking and wheezing sounds the man made as he tried to breathe, Blackie grabbed the front of his shirt with his left hand, freeing up his right. “Say your prayers, asshole,” he yelled as his first punch landed in the man's gut, “'cause you're gonna need all the help you can get. You're gonna burn in hell for what you did to my sister, and I'm the one who's gonna ignite the fire."

The man's eyes widened, but he didn't back down. “She ... had it ... coming,” he tried to say, but that only made Blackie angrier.

"She had it comin', huh? Well, then you'll understand when I say that you had this comin',” and the man grunted as Blackie jammed a knee up into his groin. “And this,” he said as he kneed him again; so hard that the lower half of the man's body actually lifted into the air.

When Georgia's attacker attempted to collapse and fall to the ground, Blackie shifted him around until he was holding him in the air by a handful of his hair. “Oh no you don't,” Blackie told him, “I ain't finished with you."

"Ah!” the man hollered in obvious pain. But that was the last sound he made. Even when his face was bloody and swollen and his body finally went limp, Blackie continued to pound on him. He threw punches until he'd calmed down enough that the red haze clouding his vision disappeared; until he no longer saw the faces of his father and the countless others that had hurt Georgia; until he was satisfied the man was in such pain that he wished he was dead.

Breathing heavily, he picked up the body and hurled it toward the woods and into a tree ten feet away; the same way he'd done to his wife's bastard ex brother-in-law.

Not until after he'd bent down on one knee and used a puddle of water to rinse the blood from his hands, did he stand up and turn to his siblings.

Blackie noticed that Georgia, shivering and huddled between Judd and Rebel, was now wearing Judd's soaking wet T-shirt over her own torn one, and staring at him.

She looked scared, like she wanted to run to him, but was afraid of being rejected.
I can fix that. If I make the first move, she'll know I'm sincere.

Slowly, tentatively, he opened his arms to her. Thankfully, he never had the chance to wonder whether or not she'd forgiven him. Georgia turned away from Judd and Rebel and wasted no time in launching herself at him.

Blackie caught her and pulled her close, holding her tight against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Blackie,” she said in a muffled voice, sobbing into his shirt, “I'm sorry."

"Shh,” he said, not giving a damn that his voice was loud enough for his brothers to hear his words. “You ain't got nothin’ to be sorry for, little girl. You hear me? Ain't none of this is your fault. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry for yellin', and goddammit, I'm sorry as hell for hittin’ you. It ain't never gonna happen again. Never, Georgia, I swear."

She tightened her grip, squeezing him harder. “But I was the one who—"

"But nothin'. You didn't do nothin’ wrong, Georgia, not a goddamn thing."

"But—"

"We talked to Bert,” Blackie interrupted, “he showed up at the house lookin’ for you; wanted to give you that drum you had him get."

Obviously surprised he was so calm, Georgia backed away and looked up at him, blinking fast against the rain. “He came to Hagerstown? To your house? Did you—"

"Did I kill him?” he interrupted again. “No. The little weasel was actually helpful. He explained some things; filled in the holes with information you'd refused to give us. And by the way,” he added, sounding reluctant. “You owe him a phone call—and only one—to let him know you're all right."

She nodded and leaned into him again.

"We talked to Wade a little while ago, too,” Blackie told her, assuming that in light of the events of the past few minutes, Georgia wasn't going to give a damn that Wade had called and talked to the brothers. “He told us what happened; explained what's been goin’ on the past ten days."

Georgia nodded again, but didn't say anything. Instead, with the rain pouring down and their brothers looking on, Blackie and Georgia stood in silence, just holding onto one another. Blackie was reluctant to let go, afraid of shattering the peace and understanding they seem to have found. Georgia, he had a feeling, was reluctant as well. Although she was soaked to the bone, she had stopped shivering, and was contently standing in front of him, locked in his embrace.

She needed to get dry, and he was about to suggest they make their way inside when three quick, deafening blasts of gunfire erupted. With the intention of shielding his sister, Blackie instinctively drew Georgia closer and leaned forward to cover as much of her body as possible. When it was quiet, he scanned the area, stood up to his full height and, in one swift motion, extended his arm, tucking her behind him.

Concerned for his brothers and kicking himself for giving his weapon to Judd, Blackie focused on where the gunfire had come from.

He couldn't believe what he saw in front of him.

Smoking guns—all three of which were still aimed in the same direction—were in the careful, accurate hands of Judd and Rebel, who were standing less than ten feet away, and Wade, who was near the tree where the drug dealer lay dead, still holding a gun in his hand.

From the looks of things, the dealer had apparently regained consciousness, reached for his weapon, and had been ready to fire at Blackie and Georgia. But their brothers, along with Wade—who Blackie hadn't even known was there—had been watching their backs, ready to strike and defend their family.

Having to make a conscious effort to keep the raw emotion out of his voice, Blackie reached behind him and touched his sister's arm. “Everything's okay, Georgia,” he told her. “Come on out."

When she emerged, once again shivering, and saw the man lying on the ground, she looked from Judd, to Rebel, to Wade, then threw a questioning glance up at Blackie, who nodded. “He's dead."

She nodded to acknowledge his answer, then ran to the edge of the woods and threw up. Truthfully, Blackie felt like doing the same thing. He was never so careless that he let his guard down. But he'd been so worried about Georgia that he'd tuned out the distractions around him, including the menace that threatened them all.

Thank God his brothers and their cousin had been paying attention.

Allowing Georgia her privacy, Blackie closed the distance between him and his family and came to a stop in front of Judd and Rebel. Silently, he held his fist in the air; the other two touching it lightly with their own.

No sounds were made, no words were needed.

Mess with one McCassey, mess with all of them, just as it had always been.

Only now, it included a Pickett, too.

After Georgia had rejoined her brothers and they were ready to start toward the house, Blackie got Wade's attention. “Come on,” he said, motioning for Wade to follow. “I got a feelin’ we're gonna be seein’ a lot more of you, so you might as well join us."

Wade joined them only long enough to pull Georgia into his arms and place a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks for the offer, Blackie,” he said, extending a hand that Blackie gladly shook, “but the four of you have some things to work out, things I don't need to be around for. I'll go ahead and clean up this little mess,” he said, motioning to the dead man. “I'll catch up with you all later."

Blackie watched Wade turn his back on the group and leave, knowing now that he'd misjudged the man, and making a mental note to tell him so.

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Georgia was dripping wet and shivering violently as Blackie ushered her inside the front door of Rebel and Gypsy's house.

Followed by Judd and Rebel, Blackie guided her down the hall and into the kitchen, where they all came to a stop just as Gypsy, Dusty, Angel, and Jay walked through the basement door.

"Georgia!” Jay called as he ran over and wrapped his arms around her. “You're okay!"

Just as happy to see him, Georgia stepped away from Blackie and returned her nephew's embrace, holding onto him as tightly as he was holding her. “I'm fine, Jay."

"Are you back for good?” he asked anxiously, pulling away and looking up at her.

Was she? She didn't know. Even though they'd come running when she needed help, there was still a chance they wouldn't want her to stay.

"She's back, little man,” Blackie answered for her, “but she ain't doin’ nothin’ ‘til she's dried off. Gypsy,” Blackie said as he crossed his arms and removed his wet T-shirt, leaving himself bare-chested, “you got some clothes she can wear?"

"Of course,” Gypsy answered, “I—"

"No,” Georgia turned and raised a hand to her sister-in-law, stopping Gypsy in her tracks, “I want to talk first."

"Georgia—"

"I said no, Blackie! I have something to say."

And so she told them.

Even though she knew Wade had probably already given them most of the details, Georgia stood right there in the middle of the kitchen—soaking wet and shivering—telling her family what had happened since she ran out of Blackie's house ten days earlier.

She talked non-stop for twenty minutes, repeating every detail of why she did what she did and how she felt.

Then she spent almost an hour talking about her past; her mother, herself, and what her life was like growing up. She told them about school and some of her friends, and the things they all liked to do together.

"I didn't want to share those things before because my memories were all I had. I'd lost everything else, and didn't want to lose those, too. But something Wade said tonight made me realize how lucky I am to have what I have now—all of you. I spent my whole childhood wishing for a brother or sister, and if Dolan hadn't taken me, I never would've known I had brothers.” She turned to the women behind her and added, “And sisters. It's like a dream come true, having you all."