Killian (The Sons of Dusty Walker Book 3)

  Killian

  The Sons of Dusty Walker

  By

  Desiree Holt

  Killian

  Copyright 2015 by Desiree Holt

  Published by Desiree Holt

  Copyright 2015 Cover Art by Diana Carlisle

  Editing and Formatting Services by Wizards in Publishing

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Don’t miss a single one of The Sons of Dusty Walker

  Prologue

  The office could have been straight out of another century, with its massive desk, huge carved furniture, and lingering scent of cigar smoke. The most modern things were the four men seated across from the desk big enough to sail a battleship on.

  Killian Walker shifted in his chair and wished, not for the first time, he had his familiar length of rope to play with. Maybe the comforting feel of the twisted strands in his hands would calm his jumpy nerves and ease his anger. This was definitely a what-the-fuck situation, and he wasn’t one bit happy about it. If wishing worked, he’d be back in Montana riding fence instead of sitting here with three strangers who looked like him and an old man who had facilitated this situation.

  Stanley Benner, Esquire, attorney for the late Dusty Walker—his father, of all the fucked-up things—leaned over his desk and plopped a folder of papers in front of Killian and the three other men sitting in a row with him. Killian slid a glance at them, not for the first time, and swallowed a chuckle. There they sat, like four penguins in their suits and ties, all appearing as if they’d rather be any place but here.

  And that was another thing. The damn suit was driving him nuts. Or maybe it was what it implied that he resented. If not for his mother’s insistence, he wouldn’t be wearing it. If not for his mother’s insistence, he’d have shown up in his jeans and work shirt and been a damn sight more comfortable.

  Brothers! Damn! Who the fuck would have thought he had three brothers, anyway?

  The one introduced as Jackson Walker adjusted the gray tie he wore as if it was choking him. Killian held back a snort. It probably was. He wondered if they were all as uncomfortable in them as he was.

  The lawyer’s gaze rested on each face in turn. 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 Killian was. He kept his gaze forward, not ready to take in the three faces proving his dad was 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 sure hadn’t mentioned a whole hell of a lot of things, like the fact 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 gave a rough laugh. “Since we were all four Mr. Walker, the man must have realized he needed to take a different approach.”

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

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

  “When I arrived at your homes last week with the news your father had died, I was under strict instructions not to mention you had brothers. It was among your father’s last wishes 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.”

  Killian had spent the past week peppering his mother with questions about how and what and where and every other damn thing. To say he was shocked was the understatement of the year, especially at his mother when he discovered she had been way less than forthcoming. She had known the situation from Day One. While Killian had thought his parents had been married, his mother finally confessed to him she’d known Dusty had a wife back in Kansas and she’d also known the state of his marriage. But she loved him desperately, and it had given her real pleasure to bear him a son. She took his name to avoid gossip in town. Killian felt betrayed by both of them. His father had spent very few weeks with him every year, and now he—all the sons—knew why.

  How he’d anticipated those infrequent visits, cherished every minute of them. The man not only had a wife, but three other families. The time their dad did spend with him he said was to prepare him to one day run the family business. They poured over contracts for regional mineral rights, surveyed land, and interpreted tests to determine if there was value in the acreage. When he was younger, he hadn’t been all that interested, but he’d do anything to be with Dusty.

  Killian treasured the time his father had spent taking him on trips to mineral leases and meetings with geologists. While it didn’t replace horses, the business still fascinated him, and he felt honored Dusty wanted to share it with him. He’d believed the bastard when he’d said Killian was so very special to him and he wished he could spend more time with him. Maybe if he hadn’t been so busy screwing every single female he hooked up with, that might have been possible.

  His mother had been much less concerned with the legitimacy of the situation than she was with how he now viewed his late father. She’d hauled out photo albums, pointing to the pictures of him and Dusty and telling him how much his daddy loved him. And her. Her! Yeah, what a laugh. Her and at least four other women, including his wife. All the pictures in the world wouldn’t ease the hurt he felt now. Or soften the fact she’d known about Dusty’s wife and the situation all the time. Had the business he’d set her up in and the beautiful house he bought for them been enough to buy her silence? He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her for that.

  He did feel sorry for her on one count. It was obvious from the questions she’d asked the lawyer she’d thought she was the only “other woman” in Dusty’s life. Although she hadn’t voiced her feelings, Killian had seen the shock and dismay as well as the sense of betrayal evident in her eyes. But she’d kept her feelings to herself, urging Killian not to let it affect how he viewed his father.

  He hadn’t even wanted to come today, but his mother had insisted.

  “Dusty wanted you to have his name,” she kept repeating. “He was proud of you, and he acknowledged you in his will. Substantially. If nothing else, you’ll get closure.”

  Closure. Yeah. Six feet under. Oh, wait. The old man is already there.

  Very reluctantly, he’d made use of the first-class ticket the attorney had left and flown here to Red Creek, Kansas. Where he’d received the next biggest shock of his life, meeting his half-brothers. When he and his half-brothers had seen each other for th
e first time, they were stunned into silence, 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’re told they died instantly. It was a very sad day.” 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 hunting for incubators?” Killian spat out.

  “That’s a little disrespectful,” Benner chided.

  “You’re calling me disrespectful?” Killian made a rude noise. “I’d say your client is the one who’s guilty here.”

  “She knew about all of us?” Dylan interrupted. “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 your mothers made you aware of your father’s marital situation?”

  Killian wanted to shout, Mine damn sure didn’t.

  One of the men cleared his throat, but no one spoke. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw Jackson stare at the law degree on the wall. What was going through his mind? Any of their minds? Had any of them known about Dusty’s wife or the fact this made all of them…. No, he wouldn’t go there. Instead, he focused his attention away from Montana and back to Kansas.

  “So, in the interest of time, I will read the highlights of the will. Copies of the entire document are 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 boasting 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.”

  Killian’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,” Benner went on. “But your father notes you four, as the new owners of D. Walker Mineral, can opt to transfer the homes into your mothers’—”

  “Hang on.” Beside him, Killian sensed Dylan stiffen. “You’re saying he left the company to us?”

  “Yes, of course.” Benner’s eyes widened. “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.

  Killian was dumbfounded. Holy fucking shit! He owned a fourth of a half-billion dollar company? Hell, he’d always figured Dusty had plenty of money. Their house in Montana, where Dusty had set up Killian’s mother, Mairi, was practically a goddamn mansion. It sure cost more than a pretty penny.

  But half a billion? Man, what he could do with a fourth of that. Although he wasn’t sure money would take away enough of the pain of betrayal.

  “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.”

  Repercussions? What the fuck?

  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 50 percent discount?” The guy glowered.

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

  “A year?” Killian raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Sure. But, hell, no matter what Dusty wanted, there’s no room in my life for small-town Kansas and an eight-to-five job. I’ll probably be the first to sell my quarter of the company.”

  Benner feigned a tepid 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. “What’s the time frame 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 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 wanted the four of us to live in the same house and work in the same office? For an entire week?” He had things to do and places to go. He saw this windfall as the means to realize a long-held dream, and he wanted to do some investigating.

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

  Jackson rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. Good. At least, Killian 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 because he took great pains to create provisions to make sure you were taken care of after his death. Just as he did while he was alive.”

  Yeah, real good. The jackass obviously thought money could buy anything and everything, including his kids.

  “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?”

  Dylan accessed his phone. “I can stay this week. I got nothin’ goin’ on.”

  Jackson grabbed his folder. “I can do the week after. Get this bullshit out of the way.”

  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. Killian saw Jackson’s gaze drop suddenly to the belt buckle he wore then the others. The exact same belt buckle on all four of them. The one given to them by their father.

  “Am I seeing things?” Jackson asked.

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

  “That’s 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 frowned as if he wanted to fling the buckle into the nearest lake and watch it sink.

  Killian sympathized. So much for imagining his father thought he was special. Special, like one of a matched set of four.

  The room went silent, and, as if on cue, they all turned toward the door.

  “Wait.” The attorney raced around his desk and stood in front of the men, his brow wrinkled, his breath coming fast. “Your father’s wish was to have you spend this time together.” His hands fluttered like he didn’t know what to do next.”

  “Well, then….” Killian patted Benner’s shoulder as he strode past him. “I guess he should have had his lawyer write that in the will.”

  He noticed Jackson bite back a grin.

  They were complete strangers. Best to keep it that way.

  Dylan gave the others a trigger finger salute and headed out the door, the others right behind him.

  Killian watched as each of his brothers—half-brothers, you idiot—entered their separate limousines and left the parking lot. He climbed into the one still waiting for him and leaned back, eyes closed, as the vehicle began to move.

  Now, the fun begins.

  Chapter One

  Killian pushed back from his desk where he’d been working all morning and stretched. He’d spent the last two weeks catching up on what he had to do at Hart Brothers Ranch and making sure Larry Hart was okay with him taking off. After all, in a couple more weeks, all this bullshit would be over and he could get on with his life.

  “I like to think of you as a friend as well as a hand here,” the man told him. “I’d never stand in the way of you doing something like this. Anyway, my brothers and I know you’ve wanted to have your own place for a long time. While we’ll hate to lose you, if this makes it possible, we wish you well.” Then he clapped Killian on the shoulder. “And we’ll help you any way we can.”