Misguided Target (2 page)

“Kendall, this is Dominique Bourdeaux,” James introduced, and I can still remember the nerves I felt when she spoke with her subtle French accent for the first time. No person had or has ever since intimidated me as much as she did.

“This must be the Kendall Daley I've heard so much about. Our James here thinks very highly of you, which is not something easily accomplished.”

“It's nice to meet you,” I managed to say while shaking her slender hand.

“James was right about your beauty. So intense and unique,” she said before turning her attention to him and sensually running her well-manicured finger along his jawline, “She really is, darling James.”

“You know I would never waste your time, Dominique, mon amour,” James replied, kissing her gently on the lips. The gesture was innocent, but made me feel instantly awkward. They were clearly intimate with one another, and yet she obviously knew I was here with him, and that I had been intimate with him as well. It was incredibly bizarre. She focused her attention back on me and smiled, and I was in awe of how breathtaking it was. This woman was really something else.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Kendall,” she offered, gently kissing both my cheeks, “I very much hope to be seeing more of you,” she leaned onto James and whispered, “Let me know what happens. Au revoir.”

I felt confused as I watched her long, raven curls bounce away from us. I couldn't understand why she would see me again, considering I was only going to be here for another day. It all became clear the next morning. That was the morning when James offered me a choice that changed my life.

I was in his bed, watching as he walked his naked body through the open doors of his closet. He crouched down and lifted what looked like a floorboard. Reaching underneath it, he pulled something out before replacing the floorboard, rendering the hiding spot invisible. He walked back over to me and handed me large stack of cash, which I reluctantly placed in the palm of my hand. “Kendall, you have ten thousand dollars there. You can take this money, go back to Minneapolis and continue to live your life as you were. Or you can use it to have a fresh start here.” I remember the intensity in his brown eyes as he handed me a piece of paper off the bedside table. The paper had Dominique's contact information scribbled on it. “Dominique's a good friend, and I owe her a lot. If you let her, she can help you have a fresh start.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked him, confused.

“Dominique runs a business here in D.C. that provides wealthy individuals with the company of interesting men and women.”

“What is she, some kind of madam or something?” I asked as my shocked eyes met his. I couldn't believe he was actually saying what I thought he was.

“Yes, that's exactly what she is,” he answered matter-of-fact, as though it were no big deal.

“Let me get this straight; you're offering to pay me for the time I spent with you like I'm some kind of hooker, or you're asking me to agree to actually become a hooker for a living! If I wanted to sleep with people for money, I could have done that in Minnesota!” I exclaimed, hurt and angry that he thought so little of me. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I had agreed to come here with him on a pampered 'vacation' for a week, so in a way you could look at that as a kind of payment already, but for whatever reason that large sum of cash was burning a hole in my hand, and made me feel cheap and dirty. I'd made it clear that this little getaway was a one-time thing and yet here he was asking me to pimp myself out on a permanent basis!

“Listen, Kendall, Dominique doesn't sell sex. She sells beauty, intelligence, personality and an escape from reality for those fortunate enough to pay for one. If you choose to sleep with a client that's your decision, but no one has the power to take away your freedom of choice.”

“Well, isn't that just some modern fucking Geisha shit?” I stated, feeling totally baffled by the whole thing; it just didn't seem real.

“Kendall, you're so much better than the life you've been living. I knew it the moment I first saw you. This opportunity will allow you the chance to use your beauty and brains to make a lot of money, and if you're smart you will be able to set yourself up for life. You can quit after a few years and start living the life you actually want, instead of the one you would be forced to live because of your circumstances. There aren't many other professions where you can make this much money in such a short time frame.”

“Even if that's true, why would you do all this? Why would you offer me this great new life possibility? You're a senator, yet you moonlight as a madam's recruiter? It makes no sense. Are you in business with her?” I asked, wanting some answers. I'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it was finally happening.

“No, I'm just a senator,” he stated, pausing momentarily. “Truthfully, there was something about your eyes, those big, beautiful grey eyes that had me completely sucked in the moment you looked at me. That's an amazing skill to have, to be able to completely capture a person with one look. Beyond that, you're beautiful and charming, and carry yourself with an edge that somehow still manages to be effortlessly graceful without being vulnerable. You should own that and use it to your advantage. There aren't many opportunities for people like you and I — those born into a lesser life. We're more likely to repeat the negative cycles that we've lived than create positive ones. We have to take opportunities where we can, and Dominique can teach you skills that will serve you for a lifetime. It's not glamorous, I agree, but take it from someone who knows all too well that if you're smart, it can lead to better things. I'm not a recruiter, but I figured if you said yes, it would benefit Dominique and at the very least if you said no, you would still have given me permission to spend time with
all of you,
which was wonderful,” he stated, gently running the back of his fingers along my cheek. “As you can imagine, not many people know about my past; I am entrusting that information to you. I want you to know that I'm not offering you cash to cheapen you because I think you're an astonishing woman. I'd have been a fool not to want to spend time with you. I don't think you're the kind of woman who likes to take charity and the truth is, I like you and care about what happens to you, and either way, I want to ensure you're taken care of.”

Yes, that's how smooth James was. He could treat me like a hooker and make it sound all kinds of romantic. I still couldn't ignore that he'd done nothing up to that point that I could say could be categorized as taking advantage of me. He hadn't talked down to me or treated me poorly, and had left every decision up to me. It was strange, but he'd been one of the most normal men I'd ever spent time with, and he'd provided me with one of the best weeks of my life. And even though I barely knew him, I had trusted him instantly. Potentially naïve on my part, considering getting people to trust him was a part of his job as a politician, but he didn't have to entrust me with a very personal detail of his past. Especially one that was this damaging to his reputation. Even though I felt conflicted, I couldn't help being tempted by the offer. If nothing else, he was living proof that with the right connections and enough money, a lot of things were possible, even reinventing yourself. I couldn't deny the appeal of that.

After calling Dominique that day, I've been living a double-life as an escort ever since. I'm Kendall Daley by day and Raina by night. I know a lot of people wouldn't approve of my current profession. I've battled with it myself from time to time. It's certainly not something I set as a life goal, but working for minimum wage and living paycheck to paycheck isn't something I dreamed about either. Alternatively, I probably could have found some rich boyfriend to take care of me, but that just doesn't sit well with me. Some people likely think that I've sold my soul and maybe they're right, but it was my soul to sell. My life is still so much better than I thought it would be, which could arguably be viewed as tragedy within itself, but it's the truth. Working for Dominique meant I only dealt with people who were vetted, tested and successful, like lawyers, doctors, celebrities and politicians. I have the chance to travel the world and experience things most people will never try.

It wasn't always the easiest of transitions and I can't pretend that it hasn't caused me some inner turmoil - both on a moral and a personal level - but I have never been the type to dwell on things. I made the decision and I've made the best of it. Still, the biggest question is whether people view me as a whore. Or better yet, whether I view myself as one. I'm not really sure how to answer that question. Beyond the legal aspects and definition of what I do, it really is a personal perspective. I wouldn't say I was or wasn't. I know it isn't really an answer, but I can't deny the fact that I've slept with some of my clients. It's not something I do all the time, but it does happen. Between school and working I don't have much time for an active social life, so when an attractive, well-dressed man comes around, I might let things go a little further. I don't like to sleep with married men, but it has happened, which isn't something I'm proud of. Most of the individuals, married or not, don't come to Dominique to hire people to sleep with. They're generally attractive individuals, or at the very least, incredibly rich and powerful ones who could have any number of willing participants sleep with them for free. They come to Dominique to hire someone who is attractive and personable, and who will listen and laugh at their jokes, but most of all, who will lavish on them the attention they want. I'm not paid to be a prostitute, I'm paid for my company, and my company includes a number of different things. I give clients what they need in that moment because that's what they're looking for, that and discretion of course.

I'm not sure if it's right or wrong, but life is full of good and bad decisions. Life is also incredibly hectic for all of us and especially for the clients I deal with, and sometimes they just need an escape. Is that wrong? Probably. Is it immoral? Yes. But the way I look at it, this is my job, and if one of my clients does something that he deems morally wrong, that's on him, not me. In my twenty-six years on this planet I've learned that life is messy and not always perfect, but like James told me many years ago, sometimes you have to take opportunities when they are given to you. People can argue I could have been honorable and worked hard for minimum wage like so many others do, and they would be right. I can't argue with that, but I'd never have been able to go to university doing that. I would have stayed stuck in the unhappy life I was living and would have ended up God knows where. Dominique runs a clean operation, and I have always felt safe. How many others can say the same?

People can judge me, but until they've walked a mile in my shoes they will never understand me. I'm a survivor; I did what I had to do. Having said that, I've been doing it a long time now and I'm ready to move on to the next chapter of my life. I put myself through university and completed my Master's degree in business. I'm in a stable enough financial position to start my own online clothing store and honestly, someday I'd like to meet Mr. Right and settle down. Who knows, maybe even have a family. But at the very least I want to finally live the life I've dreamed of, the life I've been working for. I've already given my notice to Dominique and I have one last event to do before I'm officially out of the business. It's both exciting and terrifying, but this is what I've been working for since the day I started and it just feels like the right time. Life is about opportunities and doing things that scare you. The sky's the limit right now. Tomorrow will be my last evening as Raina, but for tonight, Kendall is going out for a much-needed night on the town.

Kane

I've been sitting here, staring at the front of my brother's house for half an hour now and trying to make my way up to his door. I'm a U.S. Navy SEAL Senior Chief Petty Officer who has been trained to withstand torture and kill a man in more ways than I can count. I've completed special operations missions in some of the most dangerous places in the world and yet the thought of knocking on my own brother's door made me nauseatingly nervous. I don't get nervous easily, in fact, I was trained not to, and yet here I was, trying to process this very foreign emotion, which seemed impossible to master. I knew coming here was a mistake, but when he called and asked me to come see him while I was on leave, I couldn't say no. How do I move past this kind of nervousness? How can I process seeing a brother that I haven't seen in over sixteen years, a man that I hate for abandoning me to a foster home when I was seven, after we had already been abandoned by our parents? He was a man I hated for the life I discovered he lived, but most of all, he was a man I hated because I still loved him. It made no sense because I barely knew him, but logical or not, I felt like I needed him right now. My life was a mess at the moment and even though I was a grown thirty-five years old man who has been alone for a long time, I couldn't escape the fact that he was my family, my only family.

When he first started reaching out to me a few years ago, I wanted nothing to do with him. If nothing else, I admired his persistence. I don't know if it as a result of his years in politics but when he wants something he can be quite stubborn to the point of exasperation, wearing me down slowly until I said yes. However, saying yes clearly didn't mean the battle was over because here I sat, unable to get out of my car. I noticed the front door open, and a man appeared in the doorway, watching me. Even though I hadn't seen him in many years I knew it was him. We stared at each other for a long time before I finally gave up and turned the key in my ignition. My heart slammed against my chest with rage as I sped away from his house as fast as I could. A part of me felt some sort of sick satisfaction for abandoning him for once, and another part was incredibly disappointed with my inability to face him. I found myself heading to a local pub to get a drink. I needed to feel numb right now, because I hated feeling this way. Actually, most days I hated feeling anything. Feeling goes against all my training and everything I'm used to. Everything I'm comfortable with. I pulled up to a military pub; I needed the comfort of familiarity and my own kind right now.

“I entered the bar, “Beer?” the bartender asked as I sat down at the bar.

“Yeah. A shot of whiskey, too,” I replied, sitting down on an empty bar stool. I took a long drought of my beer and sighed audibly, as though it would somehow help release some of the anxiety I was feeling. I was starting to regret my leave of absence. I have no clue why I let my superiors convince me to take 'time off'. I worked a ton of missions and I hadn't taken more than a day or two off in over five years. A part of me knew there would be no way I was going to be able to take six months off and remain sane, especially if I ever managed to see my brother. Fuck my brother! If I could even call him that, somehow the word didn't seem to fit what he was. I roughly ran my hands through my hair before slamming my shot. I needed to stop thinking about him.

“Rough day?” A soothing feminine voice asked. I looked up to find its owner, a woman with the most mesmerizing pair of grey eyes I'd ever seen. She sat down beside me with a sexy smile spread across her beautiful lips.

“You could say that,” I replied, keeping my voice steady and taking another sip of my beer. The woman was stunning, but I wasn't quite sure I was in the mood for this right now.

“Well, can I buy you another beer?”

“I wouldn't waste your money on me. I'm not the best kind of company right now,” I offered honestly, partially hoping that she would save herself from spending any more time with me. Nothing good would come of it.

“Correction, you weren't the best kind of company, but that was before you were spending time with me,” she smiled taking a sip of her beer, “I'm Kendall, what's your name?” she asked while I stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if I wanted to engage any further. This seemed like my last chance to end this conversation before it started. My libido didn't seem to be taking this as an option. I was instantly mesmerized by how attractive she was; she barely had any makeup on and yet somehow managed to be one of the most striking women I'd ever seen, even with her rather unconventional features; long dark cascading locks, straight nose, full cheeks and nice lips on what might be described as a somewhat oversized mouth. And of course those eyes, the kind that would haunt your dreams. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a string of dirty thoughts that crossed my mind after getting a good look at her outfit too; tight, dark wash jeans which showed off a great set of long legs, a slim waist and a snug off-the-shoulder grey sweater that showed off gorgeous breasts.

“Kane,” I offered simply. “But don't say I didn't warn you about what shitty company I'll be.”

“So serious,” she teased with a pout that looked absolutely adorable, “I'm guessing by this seriousness that you're a military man.”

“No offense, but considering we're in a military bar that's not exactly an earth-shattering guess.”

“True, but that little twinkle in those otherwise very stern brown eyes tells me you're not the average kind of soldier,” she said, causing my usually steady heart rate to pick up a little. I had a very high clearance and rarely talked about being a Navy SEAL, and that's the way I liked it. Talking about it only created more questions, so I preferred to leave the conversation off the table completely. Especially with a woman I barely knew, even if she was attractive.

“Did I hit a nerve?” she asked innocently, biting her bottom lip with a devilish gleam in her eyes. This woman was practically reading my mind.

“Well, you sure don't look like a soldier,” I stated, trying to direct the topic away from me. I managed to sound uninterested but it couldn't have been further from the truth, because at the moment this woman had my full attention.

“Well, that's probably because I'm definitely not military.”

“What do you do then? You seem to like to read people as though you were one.”

“Are you saying I'm right about you?” she asked, a grin tugging at her lips over the rim of her beer. She wasn't the only one with that skill, I knew how to read people too. In fact, I was trained to do it and the fact that she could pick up on subtle cues so quickly told me she'd been trained too. Maybe she was a shrink or law enforcement of some kind, although she could be in another field too.

“So what is it that you do for a living? Sales?”

“Changing the subject again I see,” she giggled playfully, “All right I'll bite. Yes… sales, that's somewhat accurate,” she replied quickly, taking a sip of her beer. I could be imagining it, but there was something off about the way she said the word 'sales', not to mention that she seemed uncomfortable.

“What's a girl like you doing in a bar like this then? I must admit I would have pegged you as a wine drinker in a fancy place with some suits,” I stated, finishing the last bit of my beer. I held up two fingers to the bartender who was looking my way for another order. It looked like I was staying put to chat with her. Hell, I was even ordering the next round. She was good.

“I do like wine, but I also like this place. My place is just around the corner, so it's convenient. Besides, I get my fill of suits in my line of work. Suits are highly overrated.”

“I can't argue with you there,” I laughed, feeling the same way. I wasn't the biggest fan of suits myself, considering they were usually the ones hiding behind a desk making decisions while I was the one with his ass on line doing them. A certain family member of mine might also have a little something to do with my dislike for lying handshakers.

“Are you from around here?” she asked sweetly with a coy smile, batting her eyelashes at me. She was good at distracting me while asking personal questions that she knew I probably wouldn't want to answer.

“No, I'm here visiting someone, and once I deal with it I'll be leaving,” I answered flatly, hoping she would catch on that I didn't want to talk about this.

“Must be a family member or an ex-girlfriend gone bad,” she offered simply, taking another sip of her drink. I didn't reply mainly because I wasn't really sure how to — if I said yes she would probably ask more questions, and if I said no she would probably know I was lying. Silence was my best option at the moment because not even a pretty face like hers was going to get me to talk about my brother.

Silence ensued for a moment until she finally spoke again. “Please excuse me. I need to use the ladies room,” she said and I watched her disappear through the restroom doors. I wasn't sure if she would come back, which was disappointing. I was angry with myself for not changing the topic or at least try to make an effort. I'd managed to make things awkward when all she was doing was trying to be friendly.

The bartender walked over to me leaning in to speak to me, “You're a lucky son of bitch,” he stated, confusing the hell out of me.

“Pardon?”

“You're a fucking lucky man! You're the first guy I've ever seen Kendall approach in here. It's usually the other way around, with very little interest on her end.”

“What's her story anyway?” I asked, more interested than I cared to admit.

“Besides the obvious that she's gorgeous, with a body that I would give pretty much anything to see more of,” he offered with pervy groan which annoyed the shit out of me. “Not really sure, she only comes in a couple times a year. She's always sweet and even though she usually has more than her fair share of male attention, I've never seen her go home with anyone. For a while I thought or maybe I hoped she might be a lesbian or thought maybe she married. I guess not. One thing's for sure, she must like you.”

“Well if that's true I feel sorry for her,” I said, unable to wipe the cocky smirk off my lips. I wasn't sure if it was the booze or just her, but as lame and immature as it was, my ego was currently heavily inflated at the thought of her wanting me. She sat back down beside me and relief flowed through me. I decided to play it cool and forced myself to wait a few seconds before I looked at her. I didn't want to seem too interested.

“Listen, Kane, I have an important question for you,” she offered, drawing me into those intense eyes once again. “You're so tense and serious and I'm not sure if…” she paused, taking a deep breath. She had obviously changed her mind about me, “I'm not sure if you'd be interested in shots.”

“I'm sorry what?” I asked confused.

“Do you want to do shots?” she asked slowly making sure to sound out every word.

“I'm confused,” I offered honestly, unsure as to where the hell this was coming from.

“Well, confused is better than angry and moody,” she teased. “I can work with confused.”

I couldn't stop the audible laugh from escaping my chest. This girl was so random, but I was totally into it.

“So, Mr. Soldier man,” she said, leaning in so close that I could feel her warm breath on my face and smell the apple-pear scent of her shampoo, “Yay or nay on the shots? But before you decide you should know I'm no lightweight.”

“Definitely, yay to it all.” I smiled, wanting more than anything to spend as much time possible with this woman.