The Perfect Mark

By Julia Knox

Katrina is young, beautiful, and good at her job, which is luring wealthy and powerful men into compromising positions so they can be blackmailed by her employer, the nefarious but elusive Organization. But Katrina is as much of a victim of the Organization as her targets, and when she's offered a way out from an unlikely source, she has to decide whom she can trust before things turn deadly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Nov 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094431659

Julia Knox

Julia Knox is a lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest with a background in the arts and legal professions. Living in such a beautiful area, she enjoys a good hike and stargazing — at least when rain clouds don’t cover the sky. On those drizzly days, she stays in with a good book on her lap and an interesting album on the turntable or a new recipe to experiment with, to her friends and family’s delight (or disappointment).

Book preview

Chapter 1: Goodbye, Mr. Senator

Samantha (Katrina)

The sun hung just above the horizon; half hidden behind Miami’s skyline. Still, I squinted behind my sunglasses. Small clouds dotted the sky, already awash with pink and even a little purple as sunset neared. Crystal clear blue water lapped against the dock, rocking the yachts and other pleasure boats we passed, a picturesque background for an enviable selfie on the weekend getaway one of the country’s most powerful men was whisking me away on, though a bit too hot for my northwestern blood.

I all but ignored everything but the rhythmic clicking of my heels on the dock. My thumb ran along the edge of my perfectly manicured fingernails, bright cherry red. Each step took us closer to the sleek hundred-foot yacht at the end of the dock and what awaited us there. My companion was the junior senator from Wisconsin, William Buck; Billy to his friends and Big Bill to his bed partners. He beamed a wide smile at the boat, the same grin that had earned him fifty-eight percent of the vote in the last election and made him the youngest currently sitting senator.

With a face made for television, a deep, commanding, yet warm voice and a couple of distinguished tours in Iraq under his belt, he was going places in DC. Rumors on the Hill already whispered about a vice presidential nod coming his way, maybe a stint as Defense Secretary first, a war hero Democrat to counter Republican attacks that the Dems were weak on the military.

He patted the arm I had hooked through his and hit me full force with that winning smile. The women on the Hill I’d gossiped with, young interns or senatorial aids like me, called it the panty dropper. They’d have given anything to stand right where I was, to have Senator Buck gaze at them with such desire.

My lunch threatened to come up, but the corners of my playfully pink lips curled high. I tilted my head, blonde curls dancing, until he could see my eyes over the sunglasses, and offered a wink with a little giggle. The senator sucked in a breath.

Let’s get to the boat first, darling, he said. Our pace increased.

The yacht loomed closer, a hundred feet of gleaming white and mirrored glass. A happy, bubbly smile was plastered on my face, the smile any girl in my position would have. I focused all my attention on those clicking heels like a heartbeat. If only he’d been an asshole, I could have enjoyed what was about to happen, what awaited us inside.

She’s a beaut. American made, don’t you know, Senator Buck said with a sweep of his free arm at the towering boat. Not in Wisconsin, mind you, but Port Angeles is in another W state, so I’ll say it’s close enough.

The unexpected mention of my hometown, a place I’d all but fled from a decade ago, ruined the rhythm of my heels. The Senator pulled my arm tight against his side.

Careful, you don’t want to go for a swim yet, he said, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. Let’s get it out on the water first, maybe enjoy some time in the stateroom?

He stepped in front of me. His arms snaked around my back, drifting lower. Tall as I was, especially in heels, he had me by half a foot. Those hungry eyes told me what he wanted, but they darted back down the dock and he pulled away. Even as an unmarried senator, locking lips with an aide in public could damage his image.

"Or… I might have to give you a tour of our stateroom before we cast off, he said, then led me to the gangplank positioned at the stern of the yacht. He motioned up the ramp to the main deck. Ladies first."

You just want to look at my behind, I teased in my best Southern Belle, ignoring the bile in the back of my throat. Just a few more minutes and I’d be on to the next accent.

I think I’m supposed to say ‘no comment.’ The senator chuckled and held his hands up. But guilty as charged.

I might have swayed my hips a little more at that. Gave the man one last bit of joy before it all came crashing down in flames. My guts twisted with every step, even worse than before.

He came rushing after and offered his arm before we stepped toward the mirrored sliding door. With the press of a button on his phone, the door slid open. A dark curtain hid the interior cabin from us. The senator swept it aside for me to step through.

Thanks to the dark shades, cool air greeted me inside. I blinked in the sudden gloom and slipped my sunglasses off. Once the senator stepped through and dropped the shade, the blackness swallowed us, but only for a moment.

The cabin lights flicked on. Dark wood cabinets with a couple of small tables took up one side of the room. A long couch followed the curved wall on the other. At the far end, a man sat in a leather armchair as if it were a throne. He wore a pastel pink linen suit with a white shirt open almost to his stomach, and a Panama hat. Only Lenny with his dagger-sharp grin could look menacing in such a getup.

A tanned woman, her black hair buzzed on the sides and short on top, stood behind Lenny. Her men’s cut suit fit her stocky frame and matched her hair color. Lips pressed together, she watched silently, but I knew Bob well enough to know she wanted to roll her eyes at Lenny’s dramatics. He enjoyed this part of the game as much as I loathed it.

Who the hell are you, the senator demanded, finger stabbing at Lenny from the door.

He edged in front of me, protective to the last. But nobody could protect me from Lenny, not even a senator on the fast track to the White House. Not that I needed any protection at the moment. I did my job.

We’ll get to that, Mr. Senator, Lenny replied, soft-spoken for the moment. He gestured to the couch. Why don’t you sit down. Might as well get comfortable for our little chat.

The senator sneered. His eyes darted between the two unexpected guests. Bob’s flat expression didn’t waver a moment. Lenny’s smile sharpened the longer that prey dangled on his hook. He leaned back in the chair. His fingers on the armrest tapped rapidly.

Eyes down, I stepped around the senator and off to the side, away from both staring-contest combatants. Buck reached for my hand but I shook it off. My focus remained on the floor, but I caught his furrowed brows. There were idiots in Congress, more in the house than the senate, but he wasn’t among their number. Even clouded by the feelings I’d conned him into having for me, he’d see the writing on the wall quicker than most.

Oh, I really should video tape these introductions. Lenny slapped his knee and leaned forward. There is nothing better than that moment of realization, those first inklings of doubt. If I thought to record these, I’d never have to look at porn again.

Senator Buck stomped forward. He had Lenny by at least fifty pounds and I knew more than most just how good shape he kept himself in. Physically, Bob was a bigger threat than Lenny, but neither had anything to worry about. The third member of the team had finally made himself known.

Mayhem, a name he’d earned as a linebacker in college before a knee injury ended his career, had been silently looming in the corner behind us. His thick dark hand slapped onto the senator’s shoulder. A quick glance at Lenny’s enforcer, and the senator didn’t need to know the man’s nickname to understand he was outmatched. All the fight left him, except for an angry glare at Lenny.

Are you going to tell me who the fuck you are now? the senator growled. Those angry eyes darted my way for a moment, but I kept looking for patterns in the marble floor tile.

My name’s not important. Lenny waved the question away and shrugged. But I represent an organization that is very interested in you, and wants to work with you to mutually beneficial ends, of course. Your usefulness to Mr. Stevens depends on you rising high.

Lenny always played with his food. I kept my expression as flat as Bob’s had been. Her jaw dropped for a moment at Lenny’s mention of the boss. Nobody talked about Mr. Stevens. Hell, I doubt any of us had even met the man. Lenny had wanted a reaction out of me as much as he’d wanted one from my latest mark. Denying him that was about all I could do.

And Samantha here is part of your organization? If the senator’s hand had been a gun, there’d have been a smoking hole in my chest.

Samantha? Lenny’s face pinched and his head shook in a shiver before his eyes bored into me. "You don’t look like a Samantha to me. That’s what I get for letting Bob choose your identity this time. Samantha."

Elbow on his knee, Lenny propped his chin in his hand and glanced between me and the senator. His eyes lit up as bright as a child’s on Christmas morning. The senator’s glare burned into me even though I wasn’t looking at him. If only he’d been an asshole, I almost wouldn’t have minded Lenny’s usual games.

So, what’s your real name then, bitch? the senator asked, growling out the last word.

Oh, Mr. Senator, Lenny said with a dramatic gasp, such language. Very unbecoming and not even a good question. Samantha here has had so many names over the years, I doubt she even remembers her real name. We all know it fits her worse than Samantha now.

Lenny laughed. With anyone else it would have sounded almost dopey, the laugh of a stoner at their own joke. Behind him, Bob’s lips twisted, eyes on his stupid Panama hat. She always had my back. Well, almost.

The senator joined Lenny, a humorless bark that had Mayhem’s eyes wide and ready behind him. It shut Lenny up but couldn’t get rid of the man’s dangerous smile.

So, it’s a honey pot, is it? the senator asked, sparing a look my way but focused on Lenny, I’m not married, she’s an adult, closer to thirty than twenty unless she lied about that, too. Do your worst. I’m not going to lose much support over that.

Not even if it came out that Samantha here doesn’t exactly have the same plumbing as other girls? Lenny asked, earning another glare from Bob, not that he saw it.

I’m a Democrat, the Senator replied, standing tall. Queer organizations would probably give me an award if it came out I had a relationship with a trans woman, and I’m sure the FBI would be very interested to learn about your Mr. Stevens. Think of all that good free press for me.

If he hadn’t called me a bitch earlier, I might have thought him noble, almost. Most of the men I targeted would have folded by now, submitted to Lenny’s demands, and joined all the rest under Mr. Stevens’ thumb. There was no way back if you gave into blackmail even once. So many victims didn’t realize that in their desperation. They’d think if they follow the blackmailer’s instructions just that one time, the bad men would go away and never trouble them again. By giving in, they only handed the blackmailer another string to puppet them with. I should know. By now Mr. Stevens had enough twine wrapped around me to supply a hundred marionettes.

Lenny held up a hand, finger extended back toward Bob. He flicked it forward. Stone-faced, Bob stepped in front of Lenny’s chair, a folder in her hand. She tossed it onto the table.