I didn’t miss a beat. “Ashley Collins.”
Bradley, for the most part, kept his composure, but I didn’t miss the momentary flash of panic in his eyes. It was then that I knew, despite all of his charisma and efficaciousness, I was looking into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.
“Hey, I’m extremely sorry for cutting the conversation short,” Bradley mumbled suddenly, tearing his eyes away from me, “but I must go find my wife. We’re supposed to be giving a joint speech here soon. It was nice meeting you, Steven.” Bradley nodded quickly at Bianca in parting, “Bianca,” and walked away.
I watched as he swiftly disappeared into the crowd, my suspicions confirmed.
It’s him.
All the information Anonymous had painstakingly compiled on the corrupt official seemed to be true.
There was one drawback to being a public figure — everyone knew where you lived. As an online task force against corruption and injustice everywhere, the local chapter of Anonymous kept watchful tabs on all of the power players in the area.
Unbeknownst to Bradley, Anonymous had kept vigil on all of his business dealings as soon as he was elected, as the office of the mayor was a frequently abused position of power.
It wasn’t long before the hacker group, along with my help, amassed a plethora of information about the handsome young politician.
Bradley, it seemed, always sold himself out to the highest bidder, influencing the city council to vote on propositions that were beneficial to whoever donated the most money to his office.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he took bribes for about almost any issue . . . as long as the dollar amount was right. He was rotten to the core.
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.