Philanthropy Part Four: The Offensive

By Lana Ocean

Philanthropy: /fəˈlanTHrəpē/ noun: the desire to promote the welfare of others, expressed especially by the generous donation of money to good causes. Example "He acquired a considerable fortune and was noted for his philanthropy"

Peter Chase is a self-made billionaire, and a selfish prick most of the time. Then he mouths off to the wrong people and gets pulled into legal jeopardy. Just how far can he push buttons until he suffers the consequences?

This is the fourth part of the five-part five star highly rated erotic Philanthropy series.

These Explicit Stories Are For Adults (18+) Only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lana Ocean
• Release date: Aug 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777618155

Lana Ocean

LANA OCEAN is an award-winning author of fiction in another genre. Erotic fiction started as a lark, and then suddenly she had written thousands and thousands of words.She has compiled many erotic stories over the years and published them using Literotica.com under the name Estcher. She is using a pseudonym because she wants to protect her true identity. Erotic fiction is not something you can brag about at cocktail parties.Lana proudly lives in Canada.Connect with Lana Ocean:EMAIL: [e-mail]

Book preview

Philanthropy

Part Four: The Offensive

Titles by Lana Ocean

Collected Works

Volume One

Volume Two

Spell Casters Series

The Coming of the Spell Caster

The Schooling of the Spell Caster (coming 2021)

The Rise of the Spell Caster (coming 2021)

Philanthropy

Part One: The Carvers

Part Two: Building the Case

Part Three: Reaction and Action

Part Four: The Offensive

Part Five: End Game

LANA OCEAN

Philanthropy

Part Four: The Offensive

Philanthropy Part Four: The Offensive

by lana ocean

Copyright © 2021

First Edition 2021 (Kindle)

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

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorised editions.

All inquiries should be addressed to:

E-Mail: [e-mail]

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

ISBN-13: 978-1-7776181-5-5

Philanthropy

Part Four: The Offensive

Philanthropy

Part Four: The Offensive

I lay in that infernal hospital bed for two weeks. One week just lying there and one week trying to escape. The police guarding my room said they were under orders to keep me in my room. For my own safety, they said. They looked more miserable and bored than I was, so I kept buying them pizza and soon the whole wing of the hospital was getting free slices. Finally, my second week was up, and I was anxious to go home.

I got a lot of work done for the company and checked on the special code I had written and embedded. The data was pouring in and the web of money, contacts, companies, and deception was getting wider. I was still running into a problem looking past the offshore accounts. Whatever was happening there was air gapped. I needed to see the other side of that looking glass. Problem was I didn’t know where to start.

Imani had stopped by on two occassions. She reported there were no charges being laid against us once the Carvers withdrew their complaint. In Canada, rules are much different from the US. Most notably, it is the police who lay charges when they believe a crime has been committed, not individuals; however, if the police won’t lay a charge, any member of the public can take steps. Police Chief Darren Richards didn’t see the need after EDM Cessna, through Imani, pressured him and Amanda, Shanti, and I were free. The Carvers hadn’t pressed the issue, despite Brad Carver having a right arm broken in two places. Shanti sure had tossed him.

I hadn’t seen Shanti since the first day in the hospital. She sometimes answered my texts, but usually it was with a I’m too busy… reply. Dana was not allowed to visit me, she said. Her parents were furious she had escaped her condo to see me the other day. I told her to stay clear and keep doing what she was doing. She happily agreed, thrilled to be part of what I was doing, even if I knew she had no idea what she was actually doing it for. It seemed harmless, and honestly it kind of was.

I was sitting by the window in a cheap green vinyl hospital lounger and working on a project my team at work was struggling with. I could see the solution—I always could—but they couldn’t, and I was starting to get annoyed with them. I just finished sending them a twenty-four-hour ultimatum to find the solution when a knock sounded at my door. The door opened by one of the police officers posted outside, and I watched Shanti and a large man enter. They were both dressed in black, and I had no doubt this man was the bodyguard who had guarded Amanda in the hospital after she had nearly died.

I started to rise, but Shanti told me to stay seated. The door to my room shut with a click.

Sit your ass down. I wanted to bring Brad round to meet you. Peter, meet Brad McIntosh. Warrant Officer Class Two. He’s from the British Special Boat Services, SBS for short. Brad, meet Peter.

Brad smiled at me and extended a hand, which I grasped and shook. Pleasure to meet you, sir. Shanti has said a lot of positive things about you.

His British accent was much softer than Shanti’s. I looked him over and saw the way he stood, how his arms spread out a little from his sides, like he was used to having something there. I raised an eyebrow at Shanti at his last words.

Yeah, I lied a little, she admitted.

Brad laughed. I know you did, mum.

Shanti smacked him in the chest. Stop with the fucking ‘mum’.

Brad feigned pain and smiled brighter. Sorry, ma’am.

Shanti shot him a look before looking down at me. Ready to leave?

I nodded and rose and put my tablet in my backpack. Imani had brought round a backpack full of clothes, toiletries, and a bottle of a strong CBD oil. The oil was finished, but so was my pain. The muscle of my right thigh was still tight and weaker than the left, but I did simple exercises in my room. But it would need more attention to get back to normal.

Shanti watched me closely as I stood and nodded at me. Looks better. I have some stretching and strengthening exercises you should use. Works wonders.

I closed my backpack and shouldered it.

Shanti gave Brad an evil grin. Or laps in the lido? How’s that work, Brad?

Brad just shook his head.

I was confused. Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a lido?

They both answered at the same time. Swimming pool.

And you called it a lido? You know what? Never mind. What’s with the swimming pool?

Brad snorted. The ma’am gave me eight hours of swimming laps for leaving Amanda at the front door of your flat.

Shanti corrected him. You left her downstairs in the lobby, you twat.

Yes, ma’am, I did. Won’t happen again.

Is it even possible to swim for eight hours? I asked, not doubting Shanti had truly dished out the punishment.

No, replied Brad.

Shanti laughed. But he tried!

Brad hummed, a strange thing to hear. Finally sank to the bottom. Alan pulled me out.

Alan? I asked.

Another member of Team Bulldog, he replied.

I shot a look at Shanti. She hated being called the Ugly Bulldog. She didn’t seem to react and so I looked back at Brad. Team Bulldog?

Brad looked first at Shanti and then me. Our special forces team, here in Canada. The ma’am here, myself, Sergeant Alan Wayne, and Petty Officer Bruce Campbell.

And you call it Team Bulldog?

"Oh, aye. Named after our leader here. She’s tough as a