Besotted

by Madison Michael

  "We weren't the bad guys, Tyler. You were heading in the wrong direction," his father preached parentally.

  "That explains so much," Wyatt sighed. "So much. You could have told me."

  "It was a choice, betray you or betray my parents, Wyatt. Not a lot of good options there," Tyler admitted offhandedly, doing a poor job of covering up his hurt. "Anyway, these guys are blackmailing me now. Well, they have been for about sixteen years."

  “Sixteen years?” Jonathan exclaimed, turning to Emmett. “When you mentioned this and asked me to come to this meeting, I had no idea it had been going on that long.”

  "Yeah, sixteen years of escalating demands," Tyler clarified.

  “What did the police do?” Wyatt asked dumbfounded.

  "Nothing. I didn't involve the cops, protecting the family name and all that. I just paid what they asked."

  “You paid them? For sixteen years?” Wyatt exclaimed before being quickly shushed by his companions. “How could I not know this?” he whispered.

  "Well, I had hoped nobody would know. That was the point of paying." Tyler's frustration was painfully evident in his tone. Wyatt's face was thunderous.

  “You should have told us years ago,” Wyatt accused.

  “I said the same thing,” Emmett echoed.

  “At least you are telling us now. So, what do you need?” Jonathan got straight to the point.

  “Well,” Tyler took a deep breath, and after a pregnant pause continued, “now they want me to embezzle funds from LHRE.”

  "What?" Wyatt’s indignation threatened to curtail the conversation.

  Tyler spoke up quickly, hoping to assuage Wyatt, doubtful he could. "These guys are big time now, hooked in with Russian hackers. They are thugs. They were small fry twenty years ago, but they have grown into dangerous men. The guys I knew are not smart enough to run an operation like this alone; someone must be backing them. It's ugly, and I am up to my ass in it."

  “Just admit you went to jail,” Wyatt suggested. “Then they have nothing on you.”

  “It was juvie anyway, right?” Jonathan asked. “That file has been expunged by now anyway. Wyatt’s right, if you have no record and nothing to hide, they have nothing to use against you.”

  "They have my life now. They are threatening to kill me, or someone I love," he flashed a downtrodden look at Wyatt, " and I believe they would."

  "We've been to the FBI," Emmett continued when it became apparent that Tyler was too emotional. "They want Tyler to play along. He knows the little fish in this group, but the Feds want the ringleaders. Tyler can lead them right to them."

  "Isn't that risky?” Wyatt queried, blanching.

  "Of course," Emmett responded. "Worst of all, of course, is that everything will come out. All that money will have been for nothing."

  Tyler's head sunk low against his chest. The embarrassment and shame were overwhelming. He had kept this secret for nearly twenty years at great expense, financial and emotional. And he had paid a painful price with Regan. He couldn't think about losing Regan now. It would break him.

  "So why tell us after all this time?" Wyatt's challenged, his tone accusatory. It would take Tyler a long time to regain his trust.

  "I wish I could say it was just because it was long overdue, but the truth is that I need your help. I need you to put software markers in the LHRE files. I know you can do it, Ivy. Trackers for the customer files I will hand over to them. We will scrub them of course, but they will look legit. They have to look legit. And Wyatt, your hooks have to be flawless. None of us can get caught. The situation is life and death. I cannot stress that enough. The FBI has folks ready to help you, but you have to be very careful. You cannot meet with agents where anyone might see you. From now on you are looking over your shoulder at all times."

  Wyatt's face was pale and stern, but he nodded agreement.

  "In case you are being watched," Emmett added.

  "Our phone call today may have tipped them off. Be careful."

  “What do you need from me?” Jonathan asked now.

  "An air-tight immunity agreement, so none of us gets charged with conspiracy, hacking, embezzlement. That's your job."

  "I'm on it." Jonathan shot back. "You guys are never boring." The remark garnered a weak laugh from the group. "You have involved me in the most interesting cases of my career. The most lucrative, too. Undoubtedly my best clients." The foursome laughed, grateful for a moment of humor.

  "OK," Tyler said, calm now that he had confessed to everything and Jonathan had injected a bit of levity. "That's it. Let's eat. Lunch is on me. Let's dig into the details."

  "Were you pissed?" Wyatt asked Emmett. "I forgot to ask."

  " Only that Tyler didn't come to me sooner."

  “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

  “I’m sorry, Ivy, Dad. I honestly thought I was protecting you.”

  "Well, it explains why you've been dragging your feet with Regan," Wyatt acknowledged. Tyler had been expecting this conversation in the restaurant. "You aren't the kind of guy to pull her into a mess like this. I appreciate that."

  "I'm surprised he pulled you in," Jonathan said sliding copies of documents to everyone. "These are dangerous men we are dealing with; they are out for blood."

  “Well, actually money,” Tyler corrected sarcastically.

  "Glad you can joke about it.” Jonathan laughed. “Let’s get to this.”

  Two hours later Jonathan had a sheaf of handwritten papers in front of him. He stretched and asked for one last cup of coffee.

  "So where are we? Is that everything?" Wyatt queried.

  "I think we have a plan," Emmett answered, scanning the papers he was reviewing. "The sooner this is over, the better."

  "We have a good plan," Tyler reassured them, scanning the nearly empty room once more before speaking. "Right. To summarize, Wyatt, now that you are on board, we have some options we didn't have before. We will use your computer skills, and the data center at Lyon's Solutions to plant a tail in the real estate code."

  "You mean tracking code. Right. I will inject some self-erasing code based on the persistent threat evidence we get from the forensics team, bypass the intrusion detection system and first responding code that would kick out the hackers and with Tyler's help creating the fake accounts at LHRE. We'll be in business.

  "I have no idea what you just said," Emmett admitted.

  Wyatt laughed. "Sorry about that. Force of habit I guess, but in plain speak, I said that we have a plan, we will execute it and have our sting ready to go."

  "You make it sound simple," Tyler warned. "Nothing about this is simple, Ivy. These are sophisticated hackers."

  "You are right, Tyler. It's good to have your reminders about how reprehensible these people can be, " Emmett concurred.

  "It's also good to see you and Ty in a room together for a change," Wyatt added.

  "Don't patronize me, Wyatt, I have always loved my son. I just thought he had disappointed his mother."

  “And his friends.”

  “Guys, I am right here, please don’t talk about me like I’m not,” Tyler interjected. “I was saving all of you from being blackmailed.”

  “Lot of good it did you,” Jonathan stated, matter of factly voicing what all of them were thinking. “OK, gentlemen, let’s lay a trap.”

  Leaving the restaurant, Wyatt and Tyler said farewell to Mr. Winthrop at the entrance to the parking garage and walked into the first bar they passed. Tyler dialed Donna to inform her would not return to the office that afternoon while Wyatt ordered them each a scotch. With drinks quickly in hand, they walked to the darkest corner they could find and dropped into the booth.

  "I think this will work, Tyler. Jonathan is excellent."

  "He better be, for what he costs me."

  Wyatt laughed, “Yeah, there is that.” The friends sat in silence, savoring their scotch for a full minute before Wyatt broke the silence.

  “Once this is over, you’ll go after her, right?” />
  Tyler didn’t have to ask who ‘her’ was, and he didn’t look up from his drink. “I think it will be too late,” he mumbled into his glass.

  “I don’t, Ty. She’s dragging her feet. She keeps postponing the wedding, arguing about announcing an engagement. I think she’s waiting for you.”

  "I had my chance, and I blew it, Wyatt. Shit, I had dozens of chances and blew them all." Tyler's head dropped lower over his glass, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Get your ugly mug out of that glass and look at me,” Wyatt demanded.

  “What are you, my father?” Tyler asked, but his head came up and his eyes locked on Wyatt.

  "If I was, I swear I would tan your hide. Regan loves you, Tyler, and you love her. You two are right for each other. She may have thought she could marry Brandon, but she can't go through with it. If she thinks she can, then you need to save her from herself. “

  "What if she doesn't want anyone to save her, least of all me? What is she is happy?"

  “We can all tell that she’s not. And none of us are okay either. You have a chance here. Missy was right, Ty, when she suggested throwing you two together. Use it, damn you. Come up with excuses to contact her. Dream up a problem she has to help you solve.”

  “She has that CDFI job, Wyatt. It’s a great opportunity for her. I can’t spoil it for her.”

  "Man, you have it bad. Listen. I don't want to ruin the job for her, just the engagement. The guy's a sleaze. I have been looking into him. He wants to be the VP on the next presidential ticket, and he's lobbying hard for it. She's first lady material – connections out the wazoo, smart as a whip, pretty as a picture."

  "Got any more clichés in your bag of tricks?" Tyler asked. He ran his hand through his thick hair, pushing it back from his forehead, again and again, his frustration evident. "She chose him."

  "He chose her. She went along with it because she couldn’t have you. He wants her money, Ty, and ours. He keeps hitting me up for dough and trying to structure deals to borrow from her. Something is fishy there. It's time you stepped up, damn it."

  "I thought the Hockneys were rich and powerful."

  "I thought so too, and I cannot find an obvious problem," Wyatt admitted, stopping to take another sip from his glass. "But I know I am right."

  “You just have a gut feeling? He’s going to be your brother-in-law, Wyatt. You need to let it go.”

  “I heard you drunk texted her last night,” Wyatt announced, his perfect teeth evident in a knowing smile.

  “I am gonna kill your brother.”

  “My brother?”

  “Yeah,” Tyler said. “Didn’t Ethan tell you?”

  “No, why would he know? Missy got it from Regan.”

  “Regan told Missy?” Tyler perked up. “What else did she say?”

  "Oh, so you aren't disinterested after all?" Wyatt punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. "Go get her, Tyler. The past is the past. We will catch these sons of bitches and put them behind bars. Your reputation may suffer slightly, but you were a kid then. You're an adult now. Act like one and go get the woman you love."

  "It was never about me. As long as I could continue to practice law, I didn't care. But my parents, Wyatt. I never wanted to embarrass them. Denny was always the perfect child, and I was the screw-up. I never wanted to taint Regan or any of you."

  "Denny was never perfect, and you did pretty well for yourself," Wyatt argued. "You need to let go of the family drama. You need to let go of the guilt."

  "You're right," Tyler whispered under his breath. "You're right," he said louder, polishing off his drink. Tyler sat in silence, letting the scotch and the words sink in. It was time to shit or get off the pot. He loved Regan, and he was running out of time. "So some dirt from my teenage years comes out. I am nearly forty."

  “Yeah, my friend. You need to be marrying my sister and starting a family.”

  “Well, alright then,” Tyler said, slapping Wyatt on the back as he stood to leave the bar. “I’m going to go get started. Meanwhile, you can pay the bill.” He heard Wyatt grumbling all the way to the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Regan

  Thoughts of Tyler had been haunting her since that text. A month had passed, and she was finally going to see him again. Regan's heart skipped a beat at the thought, just as it had every day this week, just thinking of being with her family for Thanksgiving, being in the same city as Tyler.

  Brandon had been at his most charming since she had caved on his accompanying her. She tried not to examine her motives for wanting to leave him behind, but finally, she gave in to his constant demands and agreed to allow him to join the festivities in Lake Forest.

  Brandon was trying hard. She had to concede that point. He had grilled her on the family traditions, attire, and assured her he was ready for the annual pre-dinner football game. She was concerned that he was a bit competitive, but when she thought of her brothers, she stopped worrying. They would eat him alive.

  Besides, she had no time to worry about how Brandon would fare when she was concerned about her own survival. Initially, it was texts every three or four days: "Sorry to bother you," they would begin. Then Tyler would ask some question about an old negotiation or some Lyon Howe Real Estate problem. Nothing personal – at first.

  But after half a dozen fundamental questions shuttled back and forth, the texts got a bit friendlier. Perhaps they began with something like “I hope you are happy in DC,” or “Is Washington treating you well?” Nothing romantic, but they exuded a bit of warmth. She tried not to read too much into them. Until two weeks ago.

  Suddenly the discourse moved to a whole new level. After answering Tyler's questions, Regan might get a kiss emoji, or a “what would I do without you?” Sometimes Tyler would say he was thinking of her without a work question, just out of the blue. Then, this week, he texted several times to say he looked forward to seeing her or that he was counting the days.

  Counting the days, that was what Regan had done, and now it was day zero, the day before Thanksgiving. She was pulling up to her parent’s home in the limo, Brandon by her side. He was chattering away about meeting with her father and brother about the campaign – money again – while she was thinking about long, magical fingers and a pair of curvy lips.

  Would Tyler stop by tonight, or show up after Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow? He used to hang at the house all the time, but she didn't know anymore. She had been away most of the year, and she felt a bit like a stranger in her family home.

  "It feels odd," she shared her feelings with Brandon as they turned into the driveway. “Like it’s not home anymore.”

  "Of course," he responded, taking her hand in his. "DC is home now."

  “But don’t you think it’s sad?" Regan searched Brandon's face for some sign of empathy. “Do you feel like this when you go back to Rhode Island?”

  “What are you talking about?" he dismissed. "Of course it’s not sad, Regan. It’s progress–you are leaving your family to make your home and family with me.” Regan bit her lips to silence further questions. How could Brandon be so unfeeling, so matter of fact about all this, while she felt a little piece of her past dying? Couldn't he understand her longing for what was?

  “Where is your understanding?” she challenged. “I am feeling nostalgic, Brandon.”

  "I'm sorry, Regan. I don't mean to sound callous, but while you are mourning, I am excited beyond belief at the idea of our future. Don't you get that?"

  Regan nodded her understanding. She needed to stop evaluating Brandon's behavior. It was what Regan did these days, examining what he said, what he did, and finding fault, pulling further and further from him, losing the loving feelings she’d had for him. The more she resisted him, the more persistent Brandon became, causing her to crave her private space even more. It was a vicious cycle.

  Regan silently vowed to give him the benefit of the doubt these next few days. It was now or never. She had dragged this on too long if she
wasn't serious about marriage. Lake Forest offered a respite from DC meetings, work, and politics. Regan could see Brandon completely relaxed, having fun within the bosom of her loving family. When she traveled with him to Rhode Island, Regan had enjoyed the time away from their demanding jobs. She had relaxed with him, laughing and joking. He was romantic away from DC.

  Yes, it would be better here in Lake Forest. He would do well with the Howes, she was sure. He was polished and well informed. During meals, they would have interesting conversations about the direction the country was taking, and Brandon would charm her mother with his good manners and good looks. Once she saw him in this setting, Regan was confident she could rekindle the flame. Their relationship would be on track again by the time they returned to Washington on Sunday.

  Except there was the possibility – the certainty – of seeing Tyler. They were scheduled to meet Friday afternoon to discuss LHRE business. If it remained strictly business, Brandon might stand a chance. But Regan feared that she would tumble into Tyler’s arms. She had thought of nothing else since the night of his last text, dreamt of nothing else, wanted nothing else.

  She needed to stop wanting what she couldn't have and learn to appreciate what she did. Her emotions were so raw and confusing. If only Tyler wanted her; if she could trust him to stay by her side, to share the secret that kept them apart. But she could not. Regan was determined to forget him and build a life with Brandon

  Sure, she could do without both men. If she couldn't have Tyler, maybe there was someone out there who was better suited for her. That idea had crossed her mind more than once when Brandon's little quirks annoyed her. But she wanted a family, and Regan trusted Brandon to be a devoted husband and father. She couldn't minimize the importance of that. She had seen him interact with his family, saw how much he valued them, valued home. They shared common values and similar goals.