Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker

By Randi Alexander

When rodeo bronc rider Jackson Walker’s father passes away, he’s shocked to find he’s not the only son of Dusty Walker. His dad had three other families at compass points around the country. When a stipulation in Dusty’s will requires him to live in his dad’s house and work at his company for one week, Jackson heads to Red Creek, Kansas, to get it over with, so he can get the hell back to his regularly scheduled life.

Computer engineer Rori Hughes needs to solidify her position in Dusty’s company, but the only one of his four sons available is Jackson, and Rori has a mighty low opinion of rodeo cowboys. Finding inconsistencies in the computer files, Rori and Jackson work together to solve the mystery, but their constant contact fires a red-hot desire that burns wild between them.

Spending their days at Dusty’s opulent lakeside home and their nights together making love, they both ignore the warning signs that point to their attraction becoming more than merely sexual. Jackson’s time in Red Creek is coming to an end, but can he follow his original plan and leave town, breaking away from smart, beautiful, sexy Rori?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randi Alexander
• Release date: Jul 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311276292

Randi Alexander

Randi Alexander writes romance novels in a fun variety of genres, like western, paranormal, menage, BDSM, motorcycle club, and even sweet. When she’s not writing a story or dreaming about her next book, Randi is biking trails along remote rivers or snorkeling the Gulf of Mexico. Forever an adventurous spirit with a romantic imagination, Randi is family-oriented and married to the best guy in the world. Give in to the allure of passion as Randi’s emotional love stories sweep you off your feet and leave you breathless. You’re guaranteed a story that’ll give you a happily ever after.

Book preview

Jackson

The Sons of Dusty Walker Series, Book 2

by

Randi Alexander

JACKSON

The Sons of Dusty Walker Series, Book 2

Original Printing 2015

Revised Version Copyright © 2021 Randi Alexander

*~*~*~*

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web -without permission in writing from the author.

Prologue

The attorney for the late Dusty Walker leaned over his desk and set a folder of papers in front of each of the four young men who sat like a row of penguins in their dark suits and white shirts.

Jackson Walker, one of the four, adjusted the gray tie his mother had strongly suggested he wear. Shock had him speechless—for the first time in his life.

The lawyer’s gaze rested on each face. Was he taking in their similarities? Even though the four brothers had never laid eyes on each other until five minutes ago, they sat silently, letting the man have his fill of staring.

His three half-brothers had to be as gobsmacked as Jackson was. He kept his gaze forward, not ready to look at the three faces that proved his dad had been a rat bastard.

The gray-haired lawyer unbuttoned his suit coat and sat, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose. Incredible likeness. Your father never mentioned it.

Their father, Dusty Walker, hadn’t mentioned a whole hell of a lot of things, like the fact that he had four sons, each of whom had no idea there were three more just like him in other parts of the country.

Killian sat forward in his chair. Are we quadruplets? Were we separated at birth?

The attorney shook his head again. Absolutely not. Each of you is your mother’s biological son. You are each about a year apart in age. Mr. Walker…uh…Killian."

Jackson almost laughed. Since they were all four Mr. Walker, the man must have realized he needed to take a different approach.

Killian, you’re the oldest at twenty-seven, and Dylan, you’re the youngest. It must be a very strong DNA strand in your father to have produced men who look so similar.

Besides different eye and hair colors, their faces and bodies could have been stamped from the same mold.

When I arrived at your homes last week with the news that your father had died, I was under strict instructions to not mention that you had brothers. It was among your father’s last wishes that you learn of your siblings’ existence by bringing you together. The attorney picked up a sheaf of papers. I apologize for bringing you to Kansas under these circumstances.

Jackson had spent the week since learning of his father’s death with his mother, then had made use of the first-class flight from the Pacific Northwest and the limo transportation provided for him by the law firm. When he’d arrived at the lawyer’s office, he’d been shown into a separate office until the attorney, Stanley Benner, Esquire, had asked the four of them to come into his office.

The shock when they’d seen each other kept them all silent, warily watching each other.

The attorney rattled the papers in his hand. As I told you, Dusty and his wife Theresa were killed in an auto accident. We were told they died instantly. He looked from one to the other. So, if there are no more questions, I’ll begin reading the key points in the will. He waited a few seconds, meeting each of their gazes.

Yeah, I’ve got one. Rogue looked at his brothers. How did he…? He held up a hand. Let me rephrase that. Why? Why four families in four different states?

The lawyer tossed the papers on the desk and laced his fingers together. Your father wanted to have children, and he confided to me that his wife didn’t want them. This broke his heart.

So he went around looking for incubators? Killian spat out.

That’s a little disrespectful. Benner frowned.

You’re calling me disrespectful? Killian made a rude noise. I’d say your client is the one who was disrespectful.

She knew about all of us? Dylan held his hands out, palm up. His wife, I mean?

No, she did not. Benner’s cheeks turned ruddy. And I was sworn to silence under attorney/client privilege. I’m assuming that your mothers made you aware of your father’s marital situation?

One of the men cleared his throat, but no one spoke.

Jackson’s father had spent very few weeks with him every year, and now he—they all—knew why. The man not only had a wife but four families. The time his dad did spend with Jackson was dedicated to grooming his son to one day run the family business, poring over contracts for regional mineral rights, surveying land, and interpreting tests to determine if the acreage had value.

Jackson stared at the law degree on the wall, but his mind spun back ten years to when he’d just turned fifteen, and his mother had let Dusty’s secret escape: Dad had a wife in Kansas. Worse, despite knowing Dusty was married, Sapphire, Jackson’s mother, was Dusty’s lover, which made Jackson a… Shaking away the memory, he focused his attention away from Oregon and back to Kansas.

So, in the interest of time, I will read the highlights of the will. The entire document is in the folders I set in front of you. The attorney cleared his throat and read for a quarter of an hour. The details included a grocery list of assets: a mineral and water rights company that boasted assets near five-hundred million dollars, including a private ten-person jet, a storefront in the small town of Red Creek, Kansas, as well as a big house on the outskirts of town.

The brothers sat silent.

Of course, there are the four houses in four compass points of the US. In the north, Montana, where Killian resides. Texas, from where Rogue hails. Dylan, of course, from Nashville, and Jackson, from Oregon. Jackson’s gaze flicked to each of his brothers as they glanced at each other, then back at the lawyer. These houses are currently company property, but your father notes that you four, as the new owners of D. Walker Mineral, can opt to transfer the homes into your mothers’—

Hang on. Dylan stiffened. You’re saying he left the company to us?

Yes, of course. Benner looked surprised. I didn’t read that portion of the will because I assumed…. He hefted out a sigh. The company is now legally in your names, exactly one quarter going to each.

Dylan let go with a long, low whistle.

Jackson closed his gaping mouth and swallowed. He owned a fourth of a half-billion-dollar company? Hell, he’d always figured Dusty had plenty of money. Their house, which sat a block from the ocean in Bandon, had an unobstructed view of the Pacific from the rooftop deck and stood within walking distance of his mother’s pottery shop downtown. But half a billion? Man, what he could do with a fourth of that. So, if we sell our quarter? Jackson said the words slowly, figuring the other three had to be pondering the same question.

There are repercussions. The attorney flipped pages. Ah, here. ‘Heretofore, the parties to which—

In plain English, please. Killian put one booted foot on the opposite knee.

Of course. The man set down the papers and leaned back in his chair, placing one hand on his round belly. The company is essentially frozen as-is for a full year. After that time, if one of you wants to sell, the others have the option of buying you out at half-worth.

Half-worth? Rogue fisted his hand. Meaning they’d buy me out at a fifty-percent discount? The guy looked pissed.

Yes, that’s correct. Your father wanted to keep the company in the family. Wanted you four boys to run it together.

Jackson could wait a year. He had a sizeable savings account. All he needed was money to get him to rodeos and pay his entry fees. But hell, no matter what his father wanted, there was no room in his life for small-town Kansas and an eight-to-five job. He’d be the first to sell his quarter of the company.

Benner attempted a smile. However, you are each officially on the payroll, and your first paychecks will be cut the day you successfully complete the one…. He swallowed then cleared his throat. Stipulation in the will.

All four of them leaned an inch closer.

Stipulation? Dylan prodded.

To inherit, you must spend a week in Red Creek, working in your father’s office, learning more about the business, sharing with each other what you’ve learned from your father over the years. You must also reside for that week at your father’s house—your house—on Osprey Lake.

A week? Jackson shook his head. He’d be damned if he’d be forced to work and live with three strangers, even if they were blood relatives. What’s the timeframe here? Anytime in the next year?

Rogue slapped open his folder and pulled out his copy of the will. What section is that in? His words came out clipped.

Second from the last page. You’ll see that there’s a thirty-day time limit. The attorney checked his calendar. Today is August second. You’ll need to decide which week in August works for all four of you and plan to be back here then. Or if this week works…. He shrugged.

Killian tapped his fingertips on his knee. Dad wants the four of us to live in the same house and work in the same office? For an entire week?

Like summer camp for the bastard sons of Dusty Walker. Dylan mumbled a curse.

Jackson rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. Good. At least he wasn’t the only one who found this situation bizarre. What the fuck was he thinking?

Rogue kept reading silently.

Benner’s face turned a dark shade of red. He loved each one of you, I know that because he took great pains to create provisions to make sure you were taken care of after his death, as you were while he was alive.

Listen here. Rogue stared at the will. It says we each have to spend a week, but it doesn’t say it has to be the same week.

No, it…uh…what…? The attorney sat forward and frantically flipped through his paperwork.

I say we each take a week, get this goddamn stipulation out of the way, and figure out the rest later. Rogue looked at his brothers. Agreed?

Yeah. Okay. Dylan accessed his phone. I can stay this week. I got nothin’ goin’ on.

Jackson grabbed his folder. I can do the week after. The sooner he got this bullshit out of the way, the sooner he could get back to his real life. A burst of unease gripped him. Rodeo was his real life? Traveling solo around the country, one-nighters with buckle bunnies, broken bones, and torn ligaments. One hell of a life he’d chosen.

Killian rose. Sure, I’ll do the third week.

That leaves week four for me. Rogue stood and tucked the folder under his arm.

Now wait, boys. The lawyer stood, still staring at his copy of the will as Jackson and Dylan got to their feet. Your father wanted you all to be here together. At the same time. To get to know one another.

The brothers stood in a half-circle. Jackson’s gaze dropped to the belt buckle Killian wore, then to the other two brothers’ belts. The exact same belt buckle on all four of them. The one given to Jackson by his father.

Am I seeing things? Jackson caught Killian’s surprised gaze.

Killian looked down at his own waist. Son of a bitch. I can’t believe this. They’re all alike.

Kinda fucked up, huh? One side of Dylan’s mouth curved up. The old man gave us the same belt buckle like we’d use them to somehow magically find each other.

Jackson wanted