Jackson laughed. “You’re what, five years older than me?”
“Ten.” Vic took a big forkful and chewed, swallowing it down with coke. “But I’m an office kind of guy. You? Rodeo, buckle bunnies, seeing the country.”
Running away, as Sapphire had always said when Jackson had gone out on the circuit. “I guess.”
“You don’t have to sit behind Dusty’s desk for the rest of your life.” Vic set down his utensils. “You can always travel the country doing what your dad loved best.”
What Dad loved best? Besides his four mistresses and their bastard sons? “It’s all up for grabs right now.” He said the words, but they were a deflection. His brothers could do what they wanted with the company for the next year. Jackson was looking forward to that big payout come next August.
“I understand.” Vic ate for a while. “Just so you know, your dad’s done some really good things for this town. The Walker name is highly respected here.”
“I’m sure it is.” Jackson had heard about his dad bailing out businesses, but that could have been just self-preservation. If the town went under, the company wouldn’t have a place to call home.
Elaine walked up to their table. “Mind if I join you? My lunch meeting just ended.”
The guys stood and Jackson pulled out a chair for her. “Please do.”
“Oh, such gentlemen. The town of Red Creek is blessed to have you two bachelors gracing our streets.”
Jackson met Vic’s gaze, sending the man a silent request for confidentiality.
Vic turned toward Elaine. “So, who did you meet with?”
Tucking back into his meal, Jackson let them talk business while he considered his options. Dusty’s death threw a whole lot of new ones in front of him, and he couldn’t overlook the fact that his old way of life would change no matter how hard he tried to keep it the same.
****
Later that afternoon, Rori stepped into Heart Starter, Lexie Choate’s quirky coffee shop, glad to see the place was empty.
“Hey, girl.” Lexie had her sketch pad out and was drawing something. The woman’s artistic talent was insane, and the shop walls were filled with her artwork.
“Hi. Can I get an iced mocha? Large, please.”
“Sure.” Lexie started the big, scary espresso machine. “Need to stay awake this evening?”
Rori sat on a stool at the counter. “No. I’m just procrastinating. I promised Dusty’s son, Jackson, I’d show him how to use the computer.”
“Oooh. He’s a cute one.” Lexie pulled out another cup. “I’ll make one for him, too. Keep you both awake this afternoon.”
Cussing under her breath, Rori stuck her tongue out at her friend. “He’s the rodeo cowboy. You know how I feel about that.”
She shrugged. “Whatever prejudices get you through the day.”
Rori frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Lexi set the chocolate-infused iced coffees in front of Rori. “I’ll put this on your tab.”
“Thanks.” Rori stood. May as well go and get it over with. “We need to get Kit and Zoe and do a girls’ night out.”
“Okay. I’m in.”
Rori waited to see if Lexi would mention anything about the gossip surrounding Zoe, but Lexi just picked up her pad and started drawing, looking from it to Rori’s face and back again.
“Jeez, you know I hate it when you sketch me.” Rori crossed her eyes and contorted her lips.
Lexi laughed. “I’m going to paint your portrait that way one day.”
Rori chuckled and left the store, strolling down the street to D. Walker Mineral Company and an afternoon of computering and too-closeness with that dang rodeo cowboy. She walked past the empty reception desk. Abby worked a seven-to-three shift, and since it was already three-thirty, the woman would be long gone. Heading down the hall, she looked into the four offices along the way to Dusty’s…Jackson’s…to find them empty. So much for her plan to get here early enough to not be alone with the cowboy.
At his office door, she peeked in and found him staring at papers in an open file folder. She rapped her knuckles softly on the doorframe. “Am I too late?”
His head jerked up. “To keep me from falling asleep?” He sat back. “Yeah. It’s happened four times already this afternoon.”
“This’ll help.” She stepped into the room and set the cups on the desk. “Thought you could use this.” The red cotton shirt she’d changed into after she’d showered and put on sexier lingerie evidently caught his attention because his gaze dropped to her cleavage and stayed for a long while. “I bet you had the Tuesday special at Cubby’s.” She walked around the far side of the desk and pressed the buttons to turn on the computer and monitor. “His meatloaf sandwich has put me out cold more than once.”
“Thanks for the coffee.” Jackson stood and offered her his chair, sipping on the coffee. “That meatloaf and these reports nearly put me into a coma.”
She slid into the seat, the residual warmth from his body heating her bottom, sending a sexy shiver along her skin. “Well, this won’t take too long.” She clicked the mouse a few times.
“Miss Rori, you’re overestimating my skills.” He grabbed a guest chair and hauled it around the back of the desk and set it next to the big leather one. “Like, for instance, what did you do to turn these on?” He sat, picked up a pencil, and held it poised over a small notepad.
“Seriously?” Was he teasing her? The look on his face told her he was serious.
“My mom has a tablet thing which I’ve used, but all this…” He gestured to the computer. “It’s been since high school, the last time I used one. And I don’t want to break anything.
She held back a smile at how solemn he looked, his eyes intent, his lips thinned into a straight, sexy line. “Okay, sorry.” She went over the power-up, gave him the login and password she’d set up for him before heading over here, and showed him the different folders and files, printing out a sort of map for him and making notes on it in red.
“Good.” Jackson compared the printout to the screen. “I’m following this.”
She spent another hour showing him Dusty’s private files, the ones saved to only his computer, which included payroll and banking information.
He had her open files so he could see details, and as the evening sun turned everything orangey, he pointed to a folder. “What’s that?”
Dusty had called it Theresa.
“That looks like something personal.” She stood and motioned for them to switch chairs. “If you want to look at it now, I’ll go down the hall.”
“No.” He sat in the big chair and used the mouse. “Sit. I’ll take a look.”
She turned her back to him, facing the coatrack in the corner where Dusty’s old white straw cowboy hat hung next to his denim jacket with the company logo embroidered on the left chest. Poor Dusty. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.
“What the heck is this?” Jackson tapped her arm with the back of his hand.
She swung around and looked at the columns of numbers and dates. “I don’t know.” Standing, she leaned over him and looked at the screen. The first column was dates, a month apart each, which began eight years ago. “Scroll down.”
He did, a little slower than she’d like, but he was getting better. The last date was just days before Dusty died. “Huh.”
“Yeah. Strange.” She pointed to the screen. “The second and third column look suspiciously like bank routing and account numbers. The bank routing numbers repeat themselves on a regular basis.” She counted. “Every eighteen months, it’s the same routing number.”
“You’re saying whatever they’re doing, they use just eighteen banks on a rotating basis.”
She nodded. “What could be the significance of eighteen?”
Jackson snorted. “Knowing Dusty…” He bit off the words. Was he going to make a snide comment about Dusty and his harem? “So that makes the fourth column…dollar amounts?” Jacks
on scrolled back up slowly. “This year it’s thirteen thousand, and a thousand less every year going back.”
“I have no idea what it is.” She sat in her chair. “I can pull up a list of Walker Co.’s bank accounts, but I know that’s not Red Creek Bank’s routing number.”
He looked at her. “Can we search the world wide web for these banks?”
She bit back a smile. “Most of us call it the internet now, and yes, I’ll show you how to do it.”
After a few minutes of trial and error, they found a site that gave the information.
“These are all over the country.” He scratched his cheek. “What do you think this is?”
To her, it looked sketchy.
“You’re thinking the same thing I am, right?” He stared into her eyes. “Some kind of payoff or blackmail or gambling debt?”
She snorted. “Do you read a lot of international intrigue novels?” But she wouldn’t rule out any of Jackson’s suspicions.
“You can scoff, but I’ll bet you a million bucks there’s something strange going on.” He pressed print and walked over to the printer on a shelf in the corner.
“I don’t know, Jackson. I don’t mean to minimalize this, but is it worth your time digging into it further?”
He swung around and smiled. “Compared to the boring-ass files sitting on that desk? Hell, yeah!”
She couldn’t keep the smile from curving her lips. “Okay. But I don’t know how you’re going to get any further than—”
“You can hack computers, right?” He gestured for her to take the big chair again. “Can you do that from here or do we need to go to your store?”
She sucked in a breath. “I don’t hack.” Standing, she backed away from the computer. “That’s illegal, immoral, unscrupulous—”
“Okay.” He held up a hand. “Sorry. But you know someone who does, right?” His brows rose as he stalked toward her. “You have to. Somebody from college?”
“Why would you think that?” She backed up a step and bumped up against a file cabinet.
He stood feet from her, staring at her. “I can see it in your eyes. You do know someone. I’ll pay them.”
She could stand there and deny it, but she had no poker face. “Okay, but let me keep your name out of it.” Holding her hand out, she waited for him to place the papers in her hand. “I’m doing this under protest.”
“Protest acknowledged. Remember, you’re a contract employee of D. Walker Mineral Company, and therefore you’re protected by said contract from any legal whatevers.”
She closed her eyes for a second so he wouldn’t see her rolling them. “That’s just shy of being convincing, but let me text my contact.” Taking a photo of the top sheet, she cropped it to show only eighteen of the bank routing numbers and bank accounts, then texted them to Kiwi with a request for information. “Done.” She gave him a glare. “But you can never mention this to anyone.”
“Understood.” He nodded. “How long? What now?”
She read Kiwi’s reply text. “He says, ‘Give me an hour’. Now, we could search Dusty’s emails.” She scrunched up her nose. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, that’s okay.” He let her take the big chair and access the emails. After a half hour of searching emails, files, and photos, she sat back. “Nothing.”
“What about his personal emails? He has a laptop and a computer at his house.” Jackson stood.
“Your house?” She closed down all the files and software.
“Yeah. The house I own a fourth of.” It still sounded odd to him. He gestured. “C’mon. Marliss will have supper ready and you can help me get into those computers.”
“I don’t know.” She got up and walked around the far side of the desk. “I don’t want to just show up for supper at Dusty’s house and—”
“My house. Remember?” Jackson folded the papers and stuffed them into his back pocket, then held out his hand to Rori. “And since you’re under contract…” He grinned then laughed. “You can’t say no.”
She giggled as she took his hand and let him pull her down the hall toward the front door. “I feel like Nancy Drew all of a sudden.”
“Who?” He pulled open the door and glanced back at her.
She should have known. With a mother named Sapphire, and growing up in a quirky Pacific Northwestern town… “Just a favorite book character of mine.”
“Oh, right.” He pulled the door shut and used his key to lock it. “Your parents are teachers.”
She laughed as he hauled her around the side of the building to where the red company truck sat. Jackson and her—they each saw the world through very different filters.
Chapter Four
Jackson helped Rori into the company truck, almost surprised that she didn’t insist on taking her own car. But the house…his house…was only a ten minute drive from town. As he walked around the front of the truck, he dialed the home number.
“Good evening, Mr. Walker.” Marliss’ voice, almost too perky for a woman in her sixties, carried from his phone.
“Hey, Marliss, I’m heading that way, and if it’s okay, I’m bringing someone for supper.”
“Well, of course. Lou makes enough food for a dozen.” Her husband, Lou, had cooked since he was old enough to work outside the home. “Will this be a formal meal in the dining room?”
He looked through the truck window at Rori. “Sort of more of a…date?”
Rori lifted her brows at him.
“Uh huh. Not too sure, then?” Marliss hummed for a couple seconds. “A nice breeze has come up. How about a few candles on the table out by the pool?”
He smiled. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now, drive safe.” She’d told him that this morning, too. A warning based on his father’s demise?
“Will do. Be there in ten.”
“We’ll be ready.”
Jackson opened the driver’s door and slid in. “I called the house to see if there was enough for two, or if we needed to stop at Cubby’s for a to-go order.”
Rori laughed. “Oh man, your dad used to talk about the battalion-sized meals Lou cooked. When Dusty was home, he’d bring in the leftovers for lunch the next day and feed the whole office.”
Turning onto Main Street, Jackson tried to wrap his head around Dusty bringing chow in for a crowd. Most likely his frugal need to not waste anything.
They rode silently until the house came into view. Up on a hill facing Osprey Lake, surrounded by acres of land, the long, two-story modern-looking place loomed like a giant country mansion. Glass windows along the front of the house reflected the sun. There’d be a beautiful sunset tonight. He’d be sure to watch the time and take Rori down to the lake to enjoy it with him.
Of course, right now, his groin tightened with anticipation of pulling Rori into his arms, a kiss, then another, then a quick walk back to the house and up to the bedroom he’d chosen to use. Jackson had to shift to make room in his jeans for the hardening behind his fly.
“I’m excited to see the house. I’ve heard so much about it.” Rori fidgeted and pulled down the visor, checking her face in the mirror.
“You’ve never been in the place?”
“No.” From her pocket, she pulled a tube of something pink and shimmery, opened it, and smoothed some on her lips.
Why did he want to kiss it off her right there, halfway up the driveway?
“Your dad was a stickler for separating business and personal.” She scrunched up her face as she looked at him. “I think it was Theresa’s way of keeping us common folk out of her life.”
He’d guessed that Dusty’s wife was a socialite-type. Born into money, the best schools and college out east. “Well, since I’m about as common as they come…” He should have a party at the house, invite the whole company and their families.
“You’re a Walker.” She flipped up the visor. “Around these parts, that’s akin to royalty.”
He laughed. Even when he’d won on t
he rodeo circuit, he was treated as just plain folk. “If I find a crown hidden in the storage space, I’ll be sure to start wearing it to the office.”
Her smile did wild things to him, and as he pulled up to the side of the house, outside the garage, he winked at her. “Here it is. It ain’t much, but it’s home. For this week.”
She let herself out and they walked around the back to where the pool, cabana, and outdoor kitchen took up a half-acre of land.
“Yep.” She looked around, taking it all in. “Ain’t much.”
Jackson took her hand and led her to the wet bar under the shady pergola. “Can I make you a drink? Beer? Wine?”
He opened the refrigerator. “Looks like Marliss made a pitcher of margaritas.” He pulled out the glass container and showed Rori. “If you’re brave.”
“Mmmm.” She nodded. “I’ll have a little one. We still have some work to do this evening, so I don’t want to get too goofy.”
He selected two tall glasses, filled them with ice, and poured the green concoction into them. Handing one to her, he raised his. “To a long evening, and getting to know each other.”
She tipped her head. “How about, to a productive evening getting to the bottom of things.”
He’d nearly forgotten about the computer searching they had to do. “To a little of both of those?”
Tapping her glass against his, she nodded once. “Perfect.” She sipped. “Oh my gosh, this is delicious.”
“Thank you.” Marliss’ voice came from the French doors that led into the kitchen. “A recipe I’ve perfected over the years.” The older woman, her short hair curly and jet-black, carried a festive Mexican platter with a variety of appetizers on it. She set them on the counter next to Rori and Jackson. “Dinner in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Marliss.” He gestured to Rori. “I’d like you to meet Rori Hughes. She’s on contract with the company.”
Marliss nodded, but Rori held out her hand for a shake, and the housekeeper took it. “Glad to meet you, Marliss. I’m sure we’ve seen each other in town a few times.”
Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker Page 4
