The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book]

by Lauren N. Sharman

  After that day, the two of them goofed off and were as obnoxious around her as they were around everyone else. Rebel usually yelled and screamed and fired them at least twice each time she was at the garage, but in the end, it was all in good fun.

  She liked her cousin, Flynn, a lot, too. The closest to her in age, he was only six years older. An extremely quiet man, Georgia had caught him watching her from afar quite a few times. The way he kept his eyes on her wasn't creepy, but more like he was watching her back, like he was protecting her.

  When she walked into the garage this particular day, her attention was immediately drawn to Rose's office. The door was closed and the shade was drawn, but she could hear Blackie's voice, clear as day, yelling at someone on the phone.

  "What's with him?” she asked when Judd walked over and kissed her cheek, greeting her.

  "He needs a part for his Thompson."

  She squinted and leaned in toward him. “His what?"

  "Get your mind out of the damn gutter, Georgia.” Judd gave her a slight shove when she giggled. “A Thompson is a sub-machine gun that was used during prohibition,” he explained. “The one Blackie has used to belong to Granddaddy. Those guns are extremely rare now-a-days. The drum, which is the part he needs, is almost impossible to find."

  "Can't he just use the gun without the drum?"

  Judd shook his head. “That's the part that holds the ammunition. No drum. No working gun."

  Georgia had long since learned that although her brothers and cousins no longer got into trouble with the law, much, they were all men who loved their firearms.

  The fact that most of them, with the exception of Rebel, Frank, Jimmy, and Flynn, were all either on parole or probation and not supposed to touch a gun, let alone own one, didn't seem to bother any of them.

  "So what's he going to do if he can't find one?"

  Judd pulled on a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I don't know, kiddo, but I'm sure as hell glad I'm not the person on the other end of that phone."

  Georgia stared at the office door and wished there was something she could do to help Blackie. All three of her brothers had done so much for her, and she hadn't had the opportunity to do anything to pay them back, although it wasn't for lack of trying. She'd offered to babysit, houseclean, cook, grocery shop, and even work at the garage to help earn her keep, but the guys wouldn't let her do anything.

  "You just concentrate on getting your life back together,” Judd had told her. “If and when one of us needs you to do something, we'll let you know."

  "But I can't just sit around doing nothing!” she'd argued.

  "You're not doing ‘nothing', Georgia. You're seeing Wade every Wednesday for your counseling appointments and studying to get your GED. The test is in June. Once you pass, we'll talk about your options."

  Her other brothers had said the same thing. So, knowing hell would freeze over before she ever won that argument, she agreed to concentrate on nothing but getting herself back together, until June. Once I pass that test, though, they can no longer tell me what to do. I'm going to get a job, a place of my own, and start paying them back for everything they've done for me.

  Until then, she'd—wait a minute! Why didn't I think of that before? She had the perfect way to help Blackie get his drum. Georgia grinned widely, almost unable to contain her excitement.

  "Why are you so smiley all of a sudden?” Judd wanted to know.

  "No reason,” she lied, knowing that she had to keep her idea a secret. If any of the guys knew what she was planning to do, they'd lock her in her bedroom and throw away the key.

  She didn't care that her idea was risky and would undoubtedly get her in a lot of trouble with her brothers. The end result was going to get Blackie something he needed, something that was going to make him happy, and that's all that mattered to her.

  Judd frowned. “How come I don't believe you?"

  "Because I'm just as bad of a liar when it comes to certain things as you are when it comes to women."

  "What?” he said in genuine surprise. “Who told you that?"

  Georgia couldn't help herself, and laughed at the expression on his face. “Dusty."

  Judd threw his arms in the air and sighed. “Christ, what the hell have you two been talking about during those little study sessions of yours? Did she tell you what size my underwear is, too?"

  "Thirty-eight,” she drawled, matter-of-factly. “But you can't blame Dusty for that one, big brother; I've been helping Gypsy wash laundry the past few weeks and know all your dirty little secrets."

  He rolled his eyes. “Terrific."

  Since Judd wasn't the brother usually throwing sarcasm at her, it struck her funny and she couldn't help giggling.

  Thankfully, their playful banter had effectively distracted Judd, making him temporarily forget that she had plans she wasn't willing to reveal.

  Taking it one step further, Georgia sat down at the card table and completely changed the subject. “So what's for lunch today?” she asked, knowing it was Rebel's turn to buy, which was why he was the only McCassey not at the garage.

  "Reb ordered pizza,” he told her. “He's out picking it up now and should be back in a few minutes."

  "Good, I'm starving."

  "Well you should be, you—” He stopped short. “Hold on ... when Rebel goes out to pick up lunch on Wednesdays, he usually beats you back by at least ten minutes. How come you're here so early?” he demanded. “You didn't skip your session with Wade, did you?"

  She did her best to look insulted. “Of course not! Instead of walking here today, I ran."

  Georgia sat still as Judd studied her. “You ran,” he repeated, “as in, jogged?"

  "Yes, as in jogged."

  Wearing a who-would-want-to-do-such-a-thing look, he looked as though he didn't believe her. “Why?"

  She shrugged. “Why not, Judd? Running is good for you. It helps you get into shape."

  "And why would you want to do that?"

  "Because I'm sick of looking frail and weighing no more than a feather,” she answered. “I'm an athlete; at least, I used to be. I like to play sports, and that's something I can't do if there's a chance I could blow away in a good, stiff breeze."

  "Well, there's plenty of ways to exercise. I don't see why you have to run."

  "What's your problem, Judd?” Georgia asked angrily. “I just told you why. And maybe,” she said, using her index finger to poke him in the stomach, “running is something you should consider trying. I'd bet my life that those thirty-eights are a little snug."

  Judd's expression turned dark, and Georgia could tell he was about to let her have it. She was prepared to be yelled at, but lucky for her, just as Judd was about to say something, Rebel walked into the garage carrying five extra large pizzas.

  "Hey man, is that all you got?” Kane called from across the garage. “That ain't enough for all of us."

  "There's five more out in the truck, asshole,” Rebel called back as he set the boxes on the card table. “Go get them or you're fired."

  Georgia laughed at the string of curses Kane let fly in Rebel's direction as he left the garage, obviously on his way to do what Rebel had told him.

  "Aren't you a little early?” Rebel asked when he noticed her.

  "What do you guys do, watch the clock on Wednesdays so you can form a search party if I'm one minute late?"

  It was a rhetorical question. Georgia hadn't needed—or even expected—an answer, because she knew that's exactly what they did.

  "She ran here,” Judd answered. “That's why she's early."

  Rebel squinted and then made a funny face. “What'd you do that for?"

  "Exercise,” Judd answered again, “she wants to get into shape."

  "Hey!” Georgia yelled at Judd, finally able to get a word in. “I can speak for myself! I—"

  The sudden slamming of the office door cut her off.

  Red-faced and obviously mad as hell, Blackie strode to the table, gave G
eorgia a funny look, and grabbed the chair next to her. He turned it around backwards then straddled it. “What are you doin’ here so early?"

  That did it.

  "I skipped my appointment with Wade today,” she spat sarcastically. “Instead, I went down to Franklin Street and whored myself out to make a little extra money. After rolling around in a filthy bed with God-only-knows-what-his-name was, I scored a couple bags of heroin, got high, hid the evidence, and came straight here."

  By the end of her little speech, the inside of the garage was deathly quiet. Everyone was staring at her. Everyone except for Blackie, who'd already almost finished his first slice of pizza.

  "If you didn't want to tell me, smart ass,” he said with his mouth full, “all you had to do was say so."

  To keep from screaming in frustration, Georgia reached over, plucked a piece of pepperoni off Blackie's pizza, and stuffed it into her mouth.

  Twenty minutes later, most of the guys were finished and getting ready to return to work, and Georgia was stuffed. She set down her half-eaten second slice of pizza, and slid the plate a few inches in front of her.

  Blackie reached out and slid it back. “Keep eatin', little girl,” Blackie encouraged as he bit into yet another slice. “You're finally startin’ to look a little less scrawny.” Then he smirked and added, “But you still talk funny."

  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.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 20

  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.