Then there were his hobbies . . . golf, art-collecting, buying horses and . . . last but certainly not least, prostitutes. And not just any prostitutes. Bradley liked the young, desperate type — girls that would debase themselves to perfect strangers for a John like Mr. James.
While it’s certainly not my thing, there was nothing wrong with a man who used prostitutes for sex, but Bradley liked to torture, beat and rape them to get his rocks off — or so that’s what the rumors were at Anonymous.
The disgusting behavior was at odds with the way he presented himself to the public — a loving father with the perfect family — a doting wife with two very young children. And he always made sure they were around for any public event for photo opportunities to further enhance the made-up image.
I had to laugh at the hypocrisy.
Family man by day, prostitute beater by night.
And now murderer would be added to his list of titles if I had anything to do with it.
Through a network of contacts, Anonymous learned the mayor was the last one seen with the young Ashley Collins before her death. But you wouldn’t know that from the details that the police released to the public. They claimed that their investigation found that Ashley Collins had likely been killed by someone she owed drug money to, and that they were doing everything in their power to bring her justice.
Except for the fact that they hadn’t pursued new leads in over a month, even vital leads that were given to them by Anonymous tipsters and community task forces.
The whole thing stunk like horse shit and screamed coverup.
Considered one of the most talented groups among hackers, Anonymous selected me to be the one to obtain the evidence the authorities were hiding.
Having nothing better to do and an intense hatred for corrupt politicians, I gladly accepted the task.
“Mayor Bradley is such a good man,” Bianca purred after he disappeared in the crowd. “He’s done so much for this city.”
“A model citizen,” I agreed sarcastically.
* * *
After a night of wild sex with Bianca, I logged into the police station’s evidence database, looking for a needle in a haystack. I had only minutes to find and download video footage from a nearby security cam from the night of the murder — all while having a demanding vixen in my ear.
“It’s so weird. You’re built like Apollo, yet you know all of this computer crap like some nerd,” Bianca purred, leaning into me and running her hands down my chest and my six pack to finally fondle the waistband of my boxers. “With your dashing good looks, you could be a model or even a movie star.”
“Can you not do that,” I muttered irritably, barely paying her an ounce of attention. “I’m doing something important here.”
Why I hadn’t kicked her out after fucking her, I had no idea. She was useful when she was feeding me the information I needed and sucking my cock, but now she was just an unnecessary distraction.
Needing frequent sex was one of my weaknesses, though it was better these days than before. It was always the same with girls like Bianca — I’d fuck their brains out, but then afterward I’d feel completely empty. I suppose I was trying to fill a hole inside of me that could never be filled. There was one girl that I felt could make me whole, but ironically, she was the one girl that I could never have.
“It’s not as important as me,” Bianca pouted, her hands going down further to cup my balls. “Mmm,” she murmured, “nice and full . . . full just for me.”
My dick stiffened in response to her efforts, though I wasn’t turned on in the least. It was just a biological response.
Fuck me.
“Stop!” I commanded. My time was running out and I didn’t have time for this shit.
“No,” Bianca replied defiantly, tightening her grip on my ballsack. She must’ve not known how serious I was, but I couldn’t be bothered to get into a tussle with her. I had mere minutes to locate the footage.
I furiously pounded away at the keyboard, when suddenly I felt my chair going back slightly as Bianca crawled beneath the desk and took my stiff cock out of my boxers.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked as panic laced my words. I was so close to finding what I needed.
“So big, veiny and juicy,” she moaned, salivating over my cock.
“Bianca stop —”
My words caught in my throat as her warm wet mouth wrapped around my dick.
Fuck.
I groaned as slurping sounds filled my ears and my concentration slipped.
I knew I should’ve kicked her ass out when I was done with her, I lamented.
Bianca stopped for a moment to tease the sensitive part of my cockhead with her tongue.
Bitch.
By this time, my hands were slipping away from the keyboard — and so was my chance of getting the footage.
Come on, pull it together, I urged myself. I’m fucking Razor. I can do this.
Filling my mind with what was at stake if I didn’t, I was able to hone my focus.