Legal Action - Box Set

by Kimball Lee

  “Look at this,” he said as he typed swiftly and the picture from his electronic tablet flashed to life on the jets big overhead screen.

  A British news station was saying, “A massive explosion has occurred in the heart of Hong Kong. The building, which was vacant at the time, belongs to the Huang Worldwide Corporation. Huang headquarters reported that Mao Huang’s son and several of his business associates were touring the building today and were almost certainly killed…”

  “There,” JP shouted and whooped, “that’s him I know it! I’m recording it, let me back it up and enhance. Look, Char, can you see that movement right there? That’s gotta be him, I think the tough son-of-a-bitch got out! Way to fucking go Finnegan!

  *

  Charlotte resigned as legal counsel for Bly International. She would continue to draw blood in the courtroom with her arguments but she wanted to be free to legally ravage Alexander Bly’s body as often as she could.

  Bly proposed to her on his boat while the sun sank into the ocean leaving a painters palette of pink and orange behind. He slipped the huge Tiffany diamond on her finger on bended knee as the yacht cruised toward Hawaii.

  Before she could say “yes,” his mouth covered hers with scorching kisses and whispers of his undying love and passion.

  He led her to the bedroom to make it official, to make her believe she was his and only his.

  In the night, after Bly fell asleep, Charlotte tied her bathrobe and walked out on deck to marvel at the moon and the endless ocean. The stars hung like lanterns in the sky and the sound of the water moving aside as the yacht raced along was somehow lonely. She felt the cell phone West had given her vibrate in her pocket. It was a secure line and other than Bly and West, no one knew the number. She smiled to think Bly must have discovered her side of the bed empty and missed her already.

  “Yes?” she answered, coyly.

  “My love, don’t marry him, wait for me. Charlotte, I’m coming for you,”

  “Finn? Are you alright, how did you escape, where are you?”

  She began to cry and he calmed her and told her not to say another word.

  He said he loved her more than life itself, he was sorry it had taken so long to realize what was truly important. He wanted her to know they would have their cottage in the country and they would be happy and have babies and raise sheep in the garden.

  He told her not to worry as she cried, they would be together soon.

  END LEGAL ACTION BOOK 1

  LEGAL ACTION 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  Charlotte’s Choice…

  Bly paced the deck of the boat; he was losing his mind over Charlotte. She’d been sick for days despite calm seas and the relative stability of the two hundred thirty foot yacht. His private physician was waiting to come aboard as soon as they docked in San Diego, but it was slow going, maneuvering such a large vessel into its berth.

  “West!” he shouted, “you tell that inept bastard who calls himself a captain to dock this boat now or his ass is fired.”

  “Yes, sir,” West said and hurried up to the third story bridge, although he knew that docking the huge craft would take as long as it took and there was no rushing it.

  The doctor stepped aboard as soon as they were safely moored, and Bly took him to Charlotte’s bed.

  “Let’s see young lady, you’re a bit under the weather it seems,” the doctor spoke directly to Charlotte whose unfocused eyes stared vacantly past him. “Start an IV, please,” he said curtly to the nurse who accompanied him.

  “She’s severely dehydrated, I’m admitting her to the hospital for a few days, an ambulance is on its way. I’m surprised she became seasick on a boat this size, but the Pacific can be ruthless even for the largest ships.” He told Bly, as they stood talking quietly in the main salon.

  “So it’s only seasickness, nothing worse?” Bly asked, he’d been beside himself with worry, and he had the crew run the yacht at full speed night and day to get Charlotte back to San Diego.

  “Is there any chance she might be pregnant?” The doctor asked, “Or any family history of chronic illness?”

  “No… I don’t know. Pregnant? I don’t see how, she’s on birth control, is that what you think it is?” Bly’s face brightened. Maybe Charlotte was pregnant; the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. He’d asked her to marry him, they’d had a wonderful night together, but the next morning she was lying on the bathroom floor. She’d been terribly sick all night and refused to speak. They were only a few days out to sea and he’d given the command to turn back to San Diego to get her to a doctor as quickly as possible.

  *

  In her hospital bed, Charlotte lay listening to the blip-blip-blip of her heart on the monitor and she knew it was broken. She turned her attention to Bly sleeping in the reclining chair by her bed and wondered how long she’d been in the hospital. Her mouth felt as dry as if it were filled with cotton and as she fumbled for the plastic pitcher of water she sent a vase of Bird of Paradise crashing to the floor.

  Bly woke with a start, was on his feet in flash and gathered her against him as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Charlotte, Charlotte!” he said over and over, rocking her gently in his arms. “God, I was so worried. How do you feel, I was so afraid I’d lost you, what do you need, what were you reaching for?”

  She pointed to a water glass and he filled it and held it to her lips. She drank and drank and then he moved the glass away.

  “A little at a time,” he said, “you haven’t had food in nearly a week. You need to take it slowly; I’ll get a nurse, hold on.”

  A week, she thought, she’d been asleep for a week? Now she was in a hospital and she didn’t know why, she couldn’t remember being in an accident.

  Bly returned, followed by a nurse who clucked her tongue and stepped over the broken vase and scattered flowers. “So you’ve come back to us? Good, good, it’s about time. Terrible virus you had there, something you picked up in China, the Doc believes. I’d stay away from communist countries if I were you. Let’s check your vitals, can you speak Mrs. Bly?”

  Charlotte looked confused and Bly sat with her again and kissed her hand, “we’re not married yet, but soon,” he said, smiling down at her like he’d just won the lottery.

  “We’re getting married?” Charlotte croaked and then reached for the glass of water again.

  Bly tilted his head at her, “you don’t remember the night you got sick?”

  “Perfect!” the nurse chirped, “her vital signs are good as new. We’ll just get some nice broth and crackers for you, and then some soft potatoes a little later this evening. You’re doing just fine young lady, we’ll have you walking down the aisle in no time,” the nurse winked at Charlotte as she headed out the door. “I’ll let the doctor know she’s awake, and I’ll send a tray of food and have an orderly clean up the flowers.” She looked at the exotic blooms scattered on the floor and shook her head, “that’s a shame, I hate to see such beautiful things ruined.”

  “Bly,” Charlotte whispered, “where are we?”

  “Charlotte,” he said, his eyes suddenly worried, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Sex,” she said.

  He smiled and kissed her lips lightly, then her forehead and her hands again. “Good sex?” he asked. “With me, I hope?”

  She nodded her head, “Yes, on the boat, you gave me a ring and…”

  “That’s right,” he said, “and we went to bed and later I fell asleep, then I woke in the morning and you were sick on the floor of the bathroom. Do you remember that? Do you remember getting sick?”

  “No,” she said and the orderly scuttled in and muttered as he cleaned the mess on the floor.

  The nurse returned and set a food tray on the rolling bed table and said, “Here you are, we’ll put some meat on your bones in no time.”

  *

  When Charlotte was released from the hospital two days later, she wanted to go back to the boat; she thought it might he
lp her remember. There was something on the edge of her memory that eluded her, something important. On the yacht, she wandered through room after room; she hadn’t realized it was so... huge. She did remember that she and Bly had done little more than sit in the main salon; eat on deck and in the dining room and have a lot of sex in the master bedroom. Bly followed her, and she felt there were questions he wanted to ask, but he waited for her to speak.

  “How many rooms are on this boat?” she asked, stopping to dip a toe in the swimming pool on the second-level deck.

  “Quite a few, there are thirteen crew members,” he said, brushing the question aside. “Charlotte, what’s going on? I feel like you’re avoiding any real conversation and you’re painfully thin, I’m concerned.”

  “I’m tired, Bly, I want to eat and fall in to bed, my things are still here on the boat, can we just stay on board for now? I feel so weary, I need my cell phone but I don’t know where it is, tomorrow I should go to my office and then I don’t know where to go from there, my mind is all over the place.”

  He pulled her against him, his face in her fragrant hair, she’d been lean before, but with perfect, sexy curves, now she felt frail in his arms.

  “Anything you want, anything at all, but come back to me. You seem so far away. We’ll stay on board if that makes you happy; we can go on to Hawaii as soon as you feel up to it. They’re not expecting you at the office for weeks Charlotte; you took a leave of absence.”

  “Right now I need food, a good, greasy burger, fries and a coke, can the chef manage that?” she said, and they kissed and then she hid her face in his neck.

  She literally groaned with pleasure as she ate the burger and fries, they were delicious and she was suddenly starving. She finished, then held her stomach and groaned again, but in pain from so much food.

  Bly laughed, he felt his Charlotte was coming back to life, he’d feared she was having a delayed reaction to Finn’s death. That’s what the doctor said after Bly told him she’d been kidnapped and her best friend was murdered. The doctor said it might help for Charlotte to see a grief counselor, that Bly should mention the idea to her, but let her make the choice to go or not. That night she turned her back to him and he pulled her close and they slept spooned together, the top of her head tucked under his chin. His erection pulsed hot and aching between them, but she was closed off in some strange world of her own, and he didn’t know how to reach her.

  *

  The next day, they took the Jeep Wrangler that Bly kept at the marina and drove through La Jolla to the Torrey Pines Nature Preserve, it was beautiful and clear and the wind and sun on her face felt like a blessing. Her hair had grown longer and she pulled it into a pony tail and wore a ball cap that said ‘Reverie,’ the name of the yacht. West was in the back seat at Bly’s insistence, he’d become paranoid after Charlotte’s kidnapping. It irritated Charlotte, it seemed West was always right there at every turn, she was going to have to tell Bly to get over the whole security thing where she was concerned. At Torrey Pines they hiked up among the rarest form of pine trees in the nation and stopped along a ridge with views across the endless Pacific.

  In the evening, when they returned to the boat, Charlotte went to the bedroom for a quick shower before supper and stopped short as she stared at the bed. A t-shirt was laid out across it and she recognized it immediately. It was from Wax, the beach bar where she’d gone with Finn and JP after the surf tournament. She picked it up and a handful of sand fell around her feet. She held the shirt to her face and she knew it was hers; the one Bly bought for her to cover her tiny bikini. She’d left it behind at the loft, and when she buried her face in the soft, cotton cloth, it smelled of Finn.

  “I was thinking you might want to see someone, Charlotte,” Bly said as she sat picking at her food that night at dinner.

  “See someone?” she asked and her fork fell out of her trembling hand and clanked as it hit the china plate.

  “A counselor or a therapist. You’ve had a tremendous shock and I believe you’re having some sort of delayed reaction. You know, from being abducted by Jamey Huang and of course, Finn’s death.”

  “Fine,” she said, “set it up for tomorrow, but I’m going alone. I don’t need the secret service following me, so tell West he can have the day off.”

  “Alright, but I’ll have a driver take you and you can call when you’re done. Here’s your phone Charlotte, the maid found it in the pocket of your bathrobe.

  She took the phone from him and scrolled through it quickly, there were only numbers for Bly and West, and no messages or call history. A longing rose up in her and she wanted to call JP, she knew he was probably on the other side of the world but she needed to talk to him without Bly hovering over her. She looked up from the phone and Bly was studying her intently, he looked at her with concern and love. He wanted her to see a psychiatrist, he must think she was crazy, but it was obvious he loved her all the same.

  *

  “I don’t have PTSD, I have the need to be left alone to work out the tempest in my mind over the two men in my life,” Charlotte said, as she sat fidgeting in a deep leather chair in the Psychiatrist’s office.

  “Alright, I understand that could be a difficult life choice, but Charlotte, one of those men is alive and the other, unfortunately, isn’t,” the doctor was young and handsome, and he seemed more interested in Charlotte’s legs than looking her in the eye as he spoke.

  “Right,” she said, crossing her legs to let the short-shorts really give him a show since she was getting nowhere with the horny moron, “that does present a challenge. Well, I’ll work on that until we meet again, Dr. Freud,” she said, and stood up to leave.

  “It’s Dr. Stein, and let me get something for you, Charlotte,” he handed her a prescription for Xanax and copy of American Jock to autograph.

  *

  She went out a side door of the office building avoiding the car and driver Bly had insisted on, and began to walk through the bustling streets of San Diego. When she felt she was far enough from the doctor’s office she ducked into a Starbuck’s and asked where she might find the best beach for surfing.

  “Man, all over the coast from here to L.A.,” a young man with blonde dreadlocks and far too many piercings told her. “Depends on what kinda swells your looking for, there’s Black’s Beach, it’s my favorite, clothing optional, ya know, nude surfing, oh man, ya gotta love it!”

  “I don’t think so,” Charlotte said, and wondered how stoned he was.

  “Oh, okay. Well, shit, man, there’s a lot. Maybe Outlook, it’s great when the wind’s blowin’ the right way, a lotta sailors though, it’s by the naval base on Coronado.”

  She caught a cab and looked out at the battleships and aircraft carriers below as they crossed the bridge from San Diego to Coronado Island. Her mind raced, thinking, wondering, would he be there? She paid the driver and stepped out of her sandals as she walked toward the ocean. Surfers waxed their boards and laughed and shared giant wave stories as she threaded her way through them toward a deserted patch of sand. She stood watching a lone surfer riding a large swell in the distance and her heart began to hammer in her chest. He rode the wave perfectly, dipping and moving as one with the surf board, then, as he neared the shore he left the board floating behind him and swam toward her.

  He peeled down the top of his wetsuit as he stood up and moved fast, splashing through the powerful surf. Her face was wet with tears as she ran into the first crashing waves to meet him.

  He held her face away from his for a moment and looked into her eyes; the sapphire blue of them and her beloved face breaking his heart open all over again. “My love,” he whispered and although she couldn’t hear with the fury of the waves churning around them, she knew the sound of it by the movement of his glorious lips. He pulled her to him and they kissed through her raging tears, their hands on each other’s face to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

  Don’t cry my love, it’s alright now,” he said as he scooped he
r up and carried her onto the hot, dry sand and laid her down on the towel and pile of clothes he’d left there. He lay beside her, the sun warming them and he turned to her and kissed her mouth and eyes, ran his fingertips over the faint bruises that lingered on her face. “My love, you’re so thin, what’s he done to you? Charlotte, are you coming away with me? I knew you’d come here, I was certain we’d find each other.”

  He covered her mouth with his and they kissed deeply, and it was as hot and wet as the first kiss they shared, and Charlotte clung to him, her Finn, her safe place in the world. He eased away from her and pulled a backpack toward him, and when he spoke, his voice was low and serious.

  “Are you coming with me, my love, I need your answer now, is it me you want or him?”

  “Finn, I…”

  “Tell me, Charlotte, and quickly, I need to know this minute,” his hand moved inside the backpack and his eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance.

  “You,” she said, “I want you, but I have to think…”

  She saw the gun in his hand and heard a muffled ‘whoosh’ as he pointed and fired. She scrambled to her knees and was horrified to see West lying on the ground, deadly still.

  “West! Oh fuck, you killed him?”

  He gave her a crooked smile, stood over West’s body, then stooped and removed something from his neck. “Tranquilizer dart,” he said, holding the small dart up for her to see, “he’ll wake in a couple of hours with a bastard of a headache. I never could stand the arrogant prick, I was on a mission with him once, his work is sloppy and you can’t be sloppy with lives at stake.” He reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet, then buried his face in her hair for a moment. “Are you with me, my love? We’ve waited far too long.”

  He hauled West’s large, sleeping body, to his rented Jeep, and dumped him in the back seat. Then he and Charlotte drove to the yacht to face Bly.