Down and Out: Damaged Series, #1

By Susan Horsnell

Tyler Maxwell Alexander had it all, so what happened that caused everything to go so terribly wrong?

He went from being a billionaire to having nothing except the clothes on his back when he was arrested and taken to prison.

For something he didn't do!

Life in prison was brutal.

There was no code of behavior and guards turned a blind eye to what was taking place.

It was his worst nightmare come to life.

Can Bailey give Tyler the justice he so desperately needs before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Horsnell
• Release date: Jun 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223600343

Susan Horsnell

I’m an Australian author who lives in Queensland when not travelling and I write in a variety of Romantic sub-genres, including Western,  Historical, Gay, Mafia, and Contemporary Romance.  I have published over 60 books and novellas, many of which feature strong, independent heroines and rugged, alpha male heroes. Some of my popular series include the Outback Australia series and The Carter Brothers series. My books are known for their well-researched historical details, vivid descriptions of the Australian landscape and real life experiences. My work has garnered praise from readers and critics alike, and I have been a Finalist in both the Rone Awards and Laramie Awards as well as being a multiple times International Bestselling Author and USA Today Bestselling Author. If you're interested in learning more about my books:  Linktree https://linktr.ee/SusanHorsnell   

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Copyright@2021 Susan Horsnell

The right of Susan Horsnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Written by Susan Horsnell

Edited by Redline Editing

Line Edit by Robyn Corcoran

Proofread by Leanne Rogers

Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Real name places are used throughout this book but, events occurring in these locales are purely fictitious and for the benefit of the story only.

Warning:

This book contains sexual content and language suitable only for those 18+

Sometimes just being born is a bastard.

Tyler

Thank you to Jane, an experienced Prison Guard for her wisdom and advice on the Prison scenes.

Chapter One

TYLER

The Past

Joshua Alexander barges into my office, no polite knock at the door, no excuse me, how's your day? He glares at the files strewn on my desk before training his angry gaze onto me. Pope file, now.

I rummage through the pile, locate the Pope investment file, and thrust it in my father's direction. He snatches it from me and turns to leave.

I speak to his back. They won't stay. We can't offer them the return the Phillips can. He said he would leave half with me but that's it.

Dad swings around and pins me with narrowed eyes. Thinking like that will get you fucking nowhere in this business. Half is not good enough. Samuel won't take no for an answer, he'll demand they keep it all with us. He storms from my office and I can't resist giving him the bird behind his back. Yeah, real mature I know.

Samuel is my brother, three years younger than my twenty-six years, and mom and dad's golden child. Literally. While I have hair as black as coal and pale gray eyes, my brother is surfer blonde with clear, ice blue eyes. He’s the image of my father.

I'm tall at six feet seven inches, my brother is average at five feet eleven inches. My body is hard with washboard abs that I work hard to keep. Samuels is soft with a little too much fat around the middle. In looks, we’re poles apart. In temperament, we are fucking planets apart.

I'm easy going, slow to anger, a loner, and a little on the shy side. Samuel is a mean motherfucker like our dad and has a deadly short fuse. Fuck, his temper could blow you into outer space. Brothers we might be, friends we are not. Hell, we don't even like each other. Truth is, we can't even stand to be in the same room together most of the time.

We all work downtown at Alexander's Investment Corporation. It was my grandfather's business, handed down to my father. One day, being the eldest son, it will be mine.

When I finally take control, if there is a business left to take control of, changes will be made. We miss out on, and are losing accounts because of Dad's, and Samuel's, greed. Our commission is one of the highest in the city. As I said—greed. The only thing keeping most accounts with us, and the business afloat, is loyalty to my father. God only knows why! We also have a high success rate in recommendations. Or should I say, I have a high success rate. Not to blow my own trumpet, but Dad and Samuel are shit when it comes to selecting successful investments. They don't study the market and make snap decisions which usually backfire. Big time.

Anyway, as I was saying, clients stay because of our, read my, success in making them money. Other firms take lower commissions, but their success rate is around sixty percent on average. Mine is ninety percent.

The other companies draw the high-risk clients prepared to take a gamble, our firm attracts mom and dad clients planning their future retirement. Problem is, it's those willing to take a risk who have the big bucks. We need to attract the high turnover clients, but dad refuses to lower the companies commission to help us attract them.

Try as I might, no matter how many times I explain it, neither he nor my brother can see that 10% of a million dollars is a hell of a lot more than 30% of a hundred thousand dollars. So I've given up. It's like trying to explain something to a brick wall, or to a person who doesn't speak and understand English. I'll do my job to the best of my ability and keep my ideas to myself. My time at the helm will come. I just have to be patient.

I spend the rest of the afternoon working on the Murphy account. A couple in their mid-fifties, like my dad, who want to earn a little extra money to help make their retirement a comfortable one. They want a third of their funds in safe investments, forty percent in low risk, and the remaining thirty percent in high risk.

Maxine and Thomas Murphy are a nice couple and I enjoy our chats when they come to my office. They are the typical mom and dad investors our firm caters to and they have one hundred and twenty thousand dollars to invest. Not much to a business like ours. It's five in the evening when I close the file, satisfied I have placed their money wisely.

My phone buzzes and I smile as the message flashes on the screen—Ryan. Good for tonight? 6pm at Riccardo's?

I text back, yes before pushing the chair back and standing. The files, previously scattered all over my desk, are placed back in their folders in a walnut cabinet by the wall. I check nothing is left out before turning the key in the lock to secure them for the night. That's something else that pisses me off—dad will only allow old fashioned hardcopy files. He doesn't know, that against his instructions, I also have them on my computer. I swear to fucking God, my father and brother are dinosaurs.

I leave the office and I’m halfway down the hallway to the elevator when dad calls from behind. I groan, wondering what he'll want now. Turning around, I wait for him to approach.

Dad?

Where are you going?

Out for a drink with a friend. Not that it's any of your fucking business.

He raises an eyebrow. Girlfriend?

Yeah, nope. He doesn't know I'm gay. None of my family are privy to that tidbit of information. While mom and my brother would not take it well, dad would fucking lose his mind. He's by far the worst bigot I know. I can see it now, the explosion of his temper would catapult us into the fucking stratosphere. Nope, definitely not going to give him that piece of information anytime soon…if ever.

No, friend from school. Why?

Dad shoves his hands in the pockets of his Gucci pants and lowers his eyes to the floor.

I follow his line of sight wondering what is suddenly so interesting down there. His feet shuffle about and I wonder what he is so nervous about.

Dad?

He lifts his eyes to mine and licks his lips. Hmmm, definitely nervous.

Samuel didn't get the account.

I could say, I told you so. I'm a smug sonofabitch. He's taught me some things well.

Yeah, well there's more. Dad swallows so hard, his Adam's apple moves from the bottom of his throat to the top at the speed of an express elevator. Pope wants to leave four hundred thousand with us, like he told you, for high risk investment. The rest he is taking from us. He will only stay if you handle his account.

Why me? You said yourself, Samuel would do a better job. I can't resist throwing his earlier sarcastic words back in his face.

He said he'll go high risk, and pay our thirty percent with you, because you've never let him down. He only trusts you.

I lean against the wall, cross one leg over the other, and fold my arms over my chest. You said the account was no longer mine so I'm focusing on other clients now. I'm enjoying doing this to the fucker—making him sweat. As an executive of the company, I can accept or refuse any account as I see fit. Dad knows this, and he also knows, he's rubbed me the wrong way.

I need you to take this back, son. We can't afford to lose his account completely; the company is bleeding money at the moment.

Son? That's a fucking laugh. The only time he pulls that card is when he needs me. If he wants to pay a lower commission, why didn't he take the whole eight hundred thousand?

He's worried about the success of the other brokers. The way he sees it is, if they lose him money, what you make him will offset the loss. If they're successful, we'll lose the account in six months’ time. If not, and judging on past results I don’t think they will be, you'll get the whole amount back. If you don't take the account now, he'll walk. He refused to have Samuel on it.

Drop the file on my desk and I'll talk with him tomorrow, but be warned, if you take an account from me again because you think Samuel can do better, don't bother asking me to take it back. This is a one-time only thing.

Thanks. Dad nods before turning and striding back down the hallway toward his office.

I turn toward the elevator. Asshole. I should have said no.

*****

I park my convertible in a space by the restaurant door, close the top, and step from my vehicle. The warm mountain breeze washes over me as I lock the car, straighten my tie, and head for the entrance.

Riccardo's is in a small town in the mountains, about a twenty-minute drive from my apartment. Not many people know me here, except the staff who are professional and discreet, and I'm free to be myself.

Mr. Alexander, good evening. Jordon, the Maître D greets me. Mr. Wilson is at your usual table, Sir."

Thank you, Jordon. I carefully navigate my way through the tables where young couples sit whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, older couples are debating the problems of the world, and elderly couples hold hands showing they are just glad to be alive I guess.

Ryan smiles as I near our table, and as usual, my knees weaken. Circling the table, I lean forward, place my hand over his, and the kiss I give him is rather controlled. Good evening, gorgeous.

Ryan chuckles as I take a seat at the table. Chuckle he may, but the man is gorgeous. Dark brown wavy hair with a few locks that insist on draping themselves over his forehead, deep whiskey colored eyes, and a dimple in his left cheek you could drown in.

We have known each other for exactly three months today, and during that time, the fucking has been nothing short of amazing. It's the longest relationship I have ever had, and the most exciting. Usually after a couple of weeks, I learn it's my money they want, not me. Ryan is different.

He works at a local car dealership, and although not poor, he's far from wealthy, but money doesn’t seem to be his priority. He lives in a conservatively furnished apartment in a middle-class neighborhood. His home is well-maintained thanks to having an excellent landlord.

Ryan doesn't worry about material things. He's caring, and a passionate lover. His one indulgence? A convertible BMW which I constantly razz him about. He believes the Mercedes I drive is my one indulgence. I haven't lied about my job, he knows I work in an investment firm, but what he doesn't know, is that I'm the son of the wealthy owner.

I have avoided telling my lover about my family. He'll never be so unfortunate as to be introduced to them. I mention them in passing, as I do my job, but I prefer to keep our chats about him.

How was work, Baby? I ask.

Gentlemen, the usual? We’re interrupted by one of the regular waitresses. A petite, pretty young girl.

I smile up at her. Yes, please. She turns toward the kitchen, and I think to myself, that I must ask her name.

To answer your question, I had a fair day which has become so much better by being here with you.

I lift Ryan's hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. Three months, Baby. I can't believe how fast it's passed.

Tears of emotion sparkle in Ryan's eyes. I love you.

I feel tears prick the back of my eyes. I know you do, I love you too.

A bottle of Dom Perignon, our usual, is placed on the table along with two glasses.

Would you like me to open it for you, Sir?

The staff members always ask me this question and I always smile and say no. I prefer to open it myself.

The waitress smiles and leaves us alone.

I lift the bottle closer, tear the foil from the cork, and remove the wire cage holding it fast. With a subtle movement of my thumb, I pop the cork without losing too much of the luscious liquid. After filling our glasses to half full, I place the bottle into the ice bucket.

Ryan lifts his glass and touches it to mine lightly. Happy three month's anniversary, Sweetheart.

We both sip at the champagne before leaning across the table for a kiss.

I have something special planned for us tonight. My heart thumps in my chest in anticipation at what I have planned.

Every moment with you is special, Sweetheart. How was your day?

Shit as usual so it’s not up for discussion

Ryan frowns at me, but right on cue, our meals are served. Smoked salmon