Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker (8 page)

Evidently his dad hadn’t let his wife see inside the safe.
On the bottom, a big box with a cover on it sat at an odd angle. Jackson pulled
it out and set it on a side table. He lifted the cover and found a stack of big
scrapbooks, the top one with a
D
on it. He pulled it out and flipped
open the cover.

A baby picture, an announcement with Dylan’s name on it, a
picture of a baptism with a minister, his dad, a blonde woman holding a blond
baby. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Behind him, the desk chair squeaked.

He turned and held up a hand to stop her. “Nothing.” The
word came out too sharp.

Rori stopped halfway-standing, then plopped down again.
“Okay.” She swallowed before going back to the laptop.

He’d offended her, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready to share
this. With anyone. The next book in the pile had an
R
on it. Rogue? He’d
like to look through that one, see what kind of woman named their kid that. But
he wasn’t ready to see one with a
J
on it. Not tonight.

Sliding Dylan’s book back into the box, he reset the cover
and tucked the box back into the safe. He strolled over and sat on the desk
next to Dusty’s laptop. “Find anything?”

“Just the same file he had on his work computer.” She
touched the screen a few times and the screen went black. Closing the laptop,
she handed it to him. “Would you feel comfortable looking at Theresa’s
computer?”

He took the laptop from her and walked to the safe, setting
the computer back into the briefcase. Although he didn’t know Dusty’s wife, it
felt odd to look at her personal stuff. But if it would help solve the mystery
of the bank accounts… “We should, since Dusty had named that file
Theresa
.”
He gestured for her to go ahead of him, and they walked down the hall to the
next room.

Theresa’s office was done in light oak, more modern than
Dusty’s by about a century. Her desk looked delicate, and her pink floral chair
matched the curtains. Rori slid right in and fired up the computer while
Jackson looked for a safe, but found none. He opened the desk drawers to see if
she had a laptop, but didn’t find one. He’d ask Marliss about it in the
morning.

“Got that printout?” Rori held out her hand to him.

He tugged the folded papers from his pocket and handed it to
her, and she spread them flat on the desk and started typing again.

Jackson would love to go back into his dad’s office and do
more snooping, but it could wait until tomorrow. He glanced at Rori. Unless she
didn’t have work, and wanted to stay here with him for the day.

“Okay, she doesn’t have that same file.” Rori practically
buzzed with excitement. “But I searched documents around the date of the first
entry on Dusty’s list.” She turned the monitor toward him. “See this document?
It’s an invoice. From a private detective.”

Rori watched Jackson’s face as he read the invoice on
Theresa’s monitor.

Then he read it again. His brows dropped. “What does this
mean?”

She pointed to the date on the monitor. “Eight years ago.”
Rori turned and shuffled through the papers Jackson had printed at this dad’s
office, then she pointed to the first date. “A week after the first payment
Dusty made.”

“Or received?” Jackson sat on his heels next to her chair.
“We didn’t think of that. Could he have been the one getting this money? Not
paying it?”

“It’s possible.” She caught Jackson’s gaze. “But he has a
heck of a lot of money in the bank. Liquid assets that total millions.” She
pressed her lips together for a second. “Chances are better that he’s paying
this, rather than receiving it.”

“You’re right.”

“But it’s a possibility he was getting this money. Taking it
out of the bank in cash.” Which smacked of money laundering.

Jackson pulled out his phone and typed. “I’m gonna have Abby
pull bank records for a few months and look for these amounts.”

“Good idea.” She opened another window. “Let me search on
this guy’s name and see what else comes up.” Typing in
Harold Logan
, she
clicked search and found only an e-business card. “He’s from KC. Want me to
print this stuff out? Or email it to you to save a part of a tree?”

He grinned. “You and your new-age cloud crap.” Getting to
his feet, he leaned over the desk and turned on the small printer. “Best keep
my email out of this computer.”

She pressed print. “Now you’re thinking like a true
detective.”

After reading the papers, he folded them with the rest and
stuck it back in his pocket. “Until we hear back from your hacker, I guess
we’re done detecting?” He set his hand on her shoulder and twirled his thumb in
a sensual circle on her collar bone.

A blast of arousal rallied deep inside her, spreading to her
breasts and all the way down to the needy lips between her thighs. He was
diverting her from her curiosity about what they’d found on Theresa’s computer,
but she could understand his need to keep it private.

She shut down the computer and stood, sidling in and getting
right in his space. “We’re done computering and detecting. We’ve already eaten,
and I don’t like watching TV.” She licked her lips and set her hands on his
hips.

“There’s a gaming console or ten in the billiards room.”
Jackson tugged her close, his hands sliding to her lower back, his hips working
against hers, pushing the hard flesh behind his zipper into her belly. “You
wanna do that?”

“I don’t wanna do anything in the billiards room.” She
leaned forward, brushing the hard points of her nipples against his chest, the
layers of cloth between them practically nonexistent, the way her body
responded.

“Skinny dip?” He leaned in and kissed the corner of her
mouth.

“Maybe another time. You’ve got to get me home before
sunrise, you know. Else we give the whole town even more fuel for the gossip
fire.” Not that he cared, but she did. She had to live here.

“So you’re saying, all my efforts to entertain you are just
a waste of time?”

Rori nodded.

He grabbed her ass and pulled her up along his body. “Good.”
He kissed her, quick and thoroughly.

She nearly melted into a soft blob as his tongue took what
he wanted, gave her everything she needed. In minutes, they were upstairs in
his bedroom, peeling off each other’s clothes. She grinned. “This is all the
entertainment I was hoping for, Jackson.” She grasped his cock in both her
hands and knelt. “And consider this…my favorite version of recreation.”

****

Jackson sat in his father’s chair in the home office, the
box of scrapbooks on the desk, front and center. The sun poked above the
horizon, shining through the window right onto the box, as if a sign from
above.

He’d gotten Rori back to her building and safely inside an
hour ago, but when he’d arrived back at the lake house, he couldn’t rest. The
box kept calling to him, but he wasn’t motivated to dive in yet, so he’d been
sitting and staring.

Which was less appealing? Looking through his own book, or
those of his brothers? Jackson wasn’t in a place where he was ready to forgive
his dad yet, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to get to know every damn
detail of his half-brothers’ lives.

Footsteps padded along the hardwood floor outside the door.
Marliss walked past, then backed up and looked at him. The blue of her cotton
top and pants was broken up only by her white apron. “Good morning.” Her gaze
shifted to the box on the desk. “Or is it?” She pulled a sorrowful face.

“I don’t know, ma’am.” He should call his mother, get some
guidance from her, but as long as Marliss was right here and seemed to know
what was in the box… “What’s the story behind these?” He gestured to the
scrapbooks.

She walked in and perched on the arm of one of the guest
chairs. “Your dad had a PO box in Kansas City.”

A secret PO box. “That was how he had his baby mommas
contact him?” The words snapped out of him before he could temper them some.

She fiddled with the hem of her apron. “If that’s how you
want to put it, yes.” Her gaze met his. “But if I were a bettin’ woman, I’d
wager they were more than that to him. That
you
were more than that to
him. Especially with the care he took with those scrapbooks.”

This woman and her husband had been with Dusty and Theresa
since the beginning, since Dusty married Theresa and took over her family’s
company. “You knew about us.”

With a nod, she let out a breath. “We did.” She pulled her
phone out of her pocket and texted.

He waited, a little irritated that the conversation they
were having was less important to her than whatever she needed to communicate
through her phone.

Tucking the phone away, she sat in the chair. “What
questions do you have for me?”

Jackson opened his mouth, then closed it. What kind of
questions did he want to ask a complete stranger about things his father had
shared with her?

“What was Theresa like?” That was safe.

Marliss talked about the woman, about how she’d changed over
the years from a quiet, determined woman to a very proper, cool, well-mannered
socialite, connecting with other wealthy women in the area, and traveling often
to Kansas City for events. Jackson could understand it happening, especially
when Theresa realized that Dusty would be gone ninety percent of the time.

“Jackson.” Marliss’ eyes looked moist. “Ms. Theresa didn’t
want children.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. That’s what Benner
had said, too, but it just didn’t make sense. Why marry a woman who didn’t want
kids, when Dusty evidently did? Desperately enough to father four.

She shifted in her chair. “Lou and I knew this from hearing
them shouting at each other. Ms. Theresa didn’t tell him until after they were
married, after they’d built this big house, and Mr. Walker was running the
company. I think it made your dad a little crazy.” She waved one hand. “Not in
a bad way, but that’s when he started traveling a lot. Staying away from home
most of the time.”

Jackson could almost commiserate with his dad. Almost. Not
to the point of forgiving him for deceiving five women the way he had done.

Footsteps sounded, then Marliss’ husband, Lou, stood in the
doorway holding a heavy-laden tray.

So that was who Marliss had texted.

“Heard there was a party in here?” Lou gave a crooked smirk
and stepped inside, his long, fit body and handsome face—even for a
sixty-year-old—giving him the appearance of a movie star. Especially with that
full head of gray hair.

Jackson picked up the box and set it on the floor so Lou
could set down the tray.

Lou poured three cups of coffee, handed one to his wife, set
one on a coaster for Jackson, then took his and sat in the chair next to
Marliss.

The scent of cinnamon and freshly-baked sweet dough hit
Jackson, and he automatically reached for one of the rolls, the warm frosting
coating his fingers. He stuffed about half of it in his mouth and couldn’t help
the groan that escaped him.

Marliss patted her husband’s forearm. “Another satisfied
customer.”

Lou sat quietly. The man didn’t say much, but he didn’t have
to when his wife was around.

“Jackson was just wondering about the scrapbooks.” She
crossed her legs. “We found out about you boys when you were just a few years
old. Your father seemed almost glad that someone knew his secret. He talked
with us about you…all of you.” Leaning forward, she stared into Jackson’s eyes.
“He really did care about you.”

Jackson scratched his head. “The one thing I can’t figure
out was why he didn’t let us know we had brothers.” The faces of his three
siblings popped into his head. Killian, taller than the others, that black hair
and black eyes matching the anger Jackson sensed rolling off his brother. The
guy was a smartass, though, and Jackson had appreciated the way Killian had
handled the attorney at the reading of the will.

Rogue’s hair had looked nearly the same color as Jackson’s,
but the guy had those clear green eyes. Smart as all shit, Rogue had a cool
aura around him, like nothing bothered him. And the youngest, Dylan, his hair
almost blond, with that amusement in his hazel eyes. He’d blurted out a whole
lot of the stuff Jackson had wanted to say, but couldn’t find words in his
state of shock.

“Can’t rightly answer that.” Lou frowned. “While we were
happy to listen, it wasn’t our place to question your father’s decisions.”

Jackson looked down at the box on the floor. These
scrapbooks would let him get to know his brothers. But there was nothing that’d
help him understand Dusty. Why he’d kept four women in different parts of the
country, and why he’d kept his sons ignorant of each other.

Marliss stood. “Why don’t we give you some space, and if you
have questions, just text us and we’ll come back.”

He looked up at the woman. She would have been an amazing
grandmother to have around while he was growing up. “Thanks.”

Lou stood. “I’ll bring your breakfast in here.”

Jackson nodded. He’d confessed to Lou the morning before
that he ate the same thing every morning: scrambled eggs, breakfast meats, and
pancakes. Some days, like yesterday, twice a day. “Thanks, Lou. I’d appreciate
that.”

The couple left, taking their cups with them. Jackson slid
the computer over to one corner and pulled out the scrapbooks, laying them
side-by-side according to the age of each Walker boy.

He set his jaw. It’d be Killian first, then Rogue. He’d skip
his own and look at Dylan’s next. Save his own for last. He had the feeling it
would be less traumatic reading his own after getting a look at the others. Or
maybe he was just chicken-shit, and wanted to put it off as long as possible.

Refilling his coffee cup, Jackson shoveled down another one
of Lou’s amazing cinnamon rolls, then settled back, sliding Killian’s scrapbook
in front of him. He opened the front cover, and there was his dad, the woman
who must be Killian’s mother, with her black hair and eyes, and baby Killian,
maybe just a few days old with a shock of black hair. And the homeliest face
Jackson had ever seen on a baby. Laughing, he sent a text to Abby at the
office, telling her he’d be working from home for a few hours.

Flipping the page, he settled in to learn what he could
about the three men he’d been thrust into brotherhood with. The thought didn’t
upset him as much as it once had.

****

After a huge breakfast, a few more rolls at around ten, and
a fantastic lunch of cheese-stuffed hamburgers and homemade fries, Jackson
chose to set aside his own scrapbook and look at it later. He had enough to
take in with the life history of his three brothers.

He stepped out of the house into the heat of the early
afternoon. After the chill of the air conditioner, it almost felt good. As he
walked across the grass, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed his
mother’s number.

“Hello, honey.” Sapphire’s soft voice carried across the
miles. “How are things there?” She’d seemed hesitant when he told her about his
week in Kansas, but she’d agreed with him when he said he felt obligated to do
it.

“Going well. People are nice.”

His mom laughed. “Thanks for the detailed update.”

He grinned. “I’ll fill you in when I get home Sunday. I’m
taking lots of pictures, like you asked.”

“Thanks. I’m just…curious. You can understand that.” Her
voice came out sad and breathy.

“I do, Mom.” He didn’t know how to bring up the subject of
the scrapbook.

“Any surprises?”

Jackson thought of the document with the bank account
numbers, but his mother wouldn’t be interested in that. “The house is on a
lake. I didn’t expect that.”

“You know how much your dad loved to be out on the ocean.”
Her voice caught on the last words. “I always pictured him living near the
water somewhere.”

Jackson scraped the toe of his boot in a dry patch of the
lawn. “Yeah. He sure has it here.” Would his mother ever want to come to Red
Creek? See the business and house that Jackson now owned a stake in? He gazed
out over the lake. Lots of lakefront here. If he could take a portion for
himself, build a little house… Hell, what was he thinking? Setting down roots
was not in the future for him.

“Mom?” He had to ask her about the scrapbook.

“Yes, honey?”

“Did you know about the post office box in Kansas City?”

She stayed silent for a while. “I did. I’m guessing you
found your dad’s stash?”

“Yeah, he put it all in a scrapbook.”

“Really? He never mentioned that.”

Jackson snorted. Probably the only way the old man could
keep his four boys’ lives straight. “I haven’t looked at it yet.”