Bastian: A Secret Baby Romance (29 page)

“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.

Bianca renewed her efforts as she gripped the base of my cock, squeezing it, while bobbing her head up and down on it with abandon. My eyes nearly rolling in the back of my head, I fought like hell not to lose my concentration. My fingers went to town on the keyboard while Bianca attacked my cock just as fast.

It felt like I was trying to lift a mountain with my mind, trying to focus through the waves of pleasure rolling through my body as I barely hung on.

There!

I found it.

The file was exactly where Anonymous surmised it would be — hidden deep where it would never see the light of day. I started the download to my flash drive.

The progress bar slowly started picking up speed as I typed code to set up a wall to block any prying eyes.

1…

One fourth of the way.

Bianca was acting like she was the cock gobbler, trying her hardest to make me come, gargling and gagging on my cock.

2…

Halfway…

I swear she was trying out for the dick-sucking Olympics, stroking my eight inches with both hands and trying her best to take it all the way down her throat, but failing.

3…

Almost there. The loading bar was almost completely full.

Bianca’s efforts were paying off. A fire was building in my loins and I feared I would blow my load.

4…

The video finished, but not before a message popped up on my screen.

Who is this?

Fuck!

I came. Hard. I let the orgasm wash over me as Bianca greedily took every drop. And then I jumped up and slammed my laptop screen down, enraged.

“You stupid bitch!” I yelled, stuffing my now half hard cock back into my boxers. I knew whoever sent the message had already latched on to my location — all thanks to her. It was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“You almost ruined my fucking plan!”

Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Bianca looked shocked in the face of my wrath. “What did I do wrong?” she asked.

I started to yell at her and tell her how badly she fucked things up, but then I thought better of it. She had no clue what I was doing — wouldn’t even understand a word I was saying — and it was all my fault for keeping her around when I knew I had business to take care of.

“Nothing,” I muttered, walking over to my dress pants from the previous evening and quickly slipping them on. “Listen, babe. It’s been great. But I gotta’ run.”

“Where are you going?” Bianca asked, her voice shaky as she wiped at her pretty little face.

“Away,” I replied as I slipped on my dress shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I needed to get to a safe house fast, but that wasn’t going to be enough. While I trusted some people within Anonymous, I knew that even some of its members could be compromised. Someone had caught me, though who that someone was, I had no idea. And this information was too explosive to let fall into the wrong hands.

Since I was caught in the act, I needed someone that I could completely trust — and I knew just the person.
If I could just find her
, I thought.

“Will I ever see you again?” Bianca asked.

I stopped for a moment to study her. While the sex had been good, there was no reason for me to ever see her again. She was hot and all, but as dumb as a sack of potatoes.

“Probably not,” I replied coldly.

Not sparing her another glance, I grabbed my laptop and walked out.

“
R
azor’s on the move
!” I snapped. “Find him.”

I paced back and forth in the small living room of our apartment building that sat over a local meat shop as I watched my on-again-off-again
boyfriend,
if you could call it that, try to track down my most hated enemy.

“Calm down, Maddy,” Andre muttered as his fingers moved with lightning speed across his keyboard. “I’m looking for him.” Andre was a big guy, dirty blonde hair, and massive shoulders. He reminded me of one of those Nordic berserker warriors from an age bygone.

I scowled at the big lout like he was the biggest village idiot on the planet. “What do you mean you’re looking for him? You should’ve already had his location by now!” I screamed.

Andre winced at the piercing sound of my voice and spared an irritated glare my way. “Jesus, Maddy, will you calm the fuck down? You’re bout’ to blow out my fucking eardrum.”

It was difficult quelling the urge to leap across the room and slap him across the face.

Those anger management classes aren’t helping one bit
, I thought bitterly.

I knew I was being a bit unhinged, but I couldn’t help myself. I hated Razor. Hated him with a passion.

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Sorry,” I said quietly. “I just don’t want to lose him this time.”

Andre didn’t answer and started typing even faster than before, his face scrunching with intensity. I leaned forward, waiting, hoping. “Damn it!” He shouted suddenly, slamming his hand down on his keyboard. “He’s gone.”

Yelling with rage, I grabbed my purse off of the couch and sent it hurling across the room.

“How could you let him get away you big idiot?” I hissed. “You said you had him.”

“I did,” Andre said, shaking his head at the mess I had made, “but he went off. Don’t worry, Maddy. We’ll find him. He’s a cocky bastard and he’ll let his guard down sooner or later. When he does, we’ll be there.”

“I want that bastard’s balls on a platter,” I growled through gritted teeth, bending my fingers into claws. “I don’t care what it takes.”

Andre grimaced and looked down at his crotch area. “Fine . . . just as long as you leave my balls out of it.”

I
f I don’t get
a decent job soon, I may be changing my address to under a bridge,
I thought sourly as I looked into my cup of coffee that had conveniently gone cold. I’d get another one in a minute, but right now, I needed to make sure my new blog entry was perfect.

I right clicked my mouse, blew my strawberry blond bangs out of my eyes in frustration, and critically eyed the website on my laptop screen.

“She was the best daughter a mother could ever hope for,” sniffed Rosemary Collins, a fifty-six-year-old Wal-Mart employee from Woodberry Hills. “I don’t know what kind of monster could’ve done this to my daughter.”

The grocery store clerk and grandmother of four, has grieved over her daughter, Ashley Collins, who was alleged to be a prostitute, for the past several months.

Last fall, the twenty-four-year-old mother of two was found face down in an alleyway with an ounce of cocaine on her person and her throat slashed.

Autopsy results revealed the woman had not been sexually active or assaulted — a strange circumstance considering the young woman’s occupation.

So far, there have been no witnesses or leads in the case.

“I won’t stop until I find whoever did this,” Rosemary sobs as she looks at me with swollen red eyes. “Ashley didn’t deserve this, I didn’t deserve this, and neither did my grand babies.” She stops to wipe away her tears, her expression turning angry. “What I don’t understand is, why hasn’t the authorities stepped up their efforts to find who murdered my daughter? They haven’t shown an ounce of concern since they found her. I call them every day for new information, but they give me the runaround. Ashley might have been a prostitute, but she was still a human being. She deserves justice just like any other citizen in this damn city. Our family needs closure.” She shakes her head angrily. “Thank God that the community has been helpful with donations, otherwise I’d have no hope of ever finding her murderer.”

Frustrated by the lack of action from authorities, Rosemary created a GoFundMe to help with the costs of supporting her grandchildren, hiring a private investigator and a reward fund of $10,000 to anyone who comes forward with information leading to the arrest of the murderer.

Altogether, Rosemary has received more than $60,000 in donations.

“Someone out there knows something,” Rosemary says with determination. “And that someone needs to come forward with what they know. Ashley deserves it.”

Anyone with information pertaining to the murder case is urged to call the CrimeStoppers hotline. All callers will remain Anonymous.

“Looks fine to me,” I muttered, double-checking the article and then a third time to make sure. The last thing I needed was for the few people that did read it to find holes in my story and get pissed off and go elsewhere for their news.

As the owner of a news blog, I had to make sure everything was perfect before publication. It wasn’t exactly what I dreamed of doing when I left college, but it was making ends meet . . . for now.

Unable to break into mainstream journalism, I was fighting hard to make a name for myself with alternative online press instead.

Despite my best efforts, I found myself struggling.

I was currently working with a private investigators license and living in a small secluded cabin in the hills above Hayward, California.

With the outrageous and steadily rising costs of housing in the San Francisco and Bay Area, I’d been forced to find the cheapest living space I could find. Luckily for me, an affluent client who’d contracted me to write an article for him offered me an awesome deal.

The cabin had served as both his rental property and his vacation property, but he’d been unable to rent it out, and too busy to take a vacation.

“I don’t like the idea of the place staying vacant year-round,” the man told me at one of our meetings to discuss the article he wanted me to write. “You seem like a nice, smart young lady. Why don’t you go stay there while you get on your feet? I won’t go up on the rent as long as you promise to take care of it.”

I’d eagerly taken up the offer. At $600 dollars in that area of California, it was an unbelievable steal. I did spend about a week getting all of the dust and cobwebs out of it, though. I don’t think I ever sneezed so much in my life.

After getting the place together, it took a bit to get adjusted to living in such a secluded place. I’d always been used to the city life, and being a young woman by myself out there was more than a little frightening.

I can’t count how many times I woke up covered in sweat with the sound of something scratching at the windows. And then the sound of creaking wood would permeate my room, making it sound as if a disembodied spirit was walking around, trying to spook the bejeezus out of me.

I was scared shitless — until I realized that the scratching sounds I was hearing were just the trees outside, swaying in the wind and brushing up against the windows, and the creaking sound was just the wood settling.

Silly me.

I was surprised to find myself quickly adapting to my surroundings, and I soon fell in love with my new home. It had all the basic amenities and even Internet, which meant I was set. If I could only have Henry Cavill in his superman suit, I’d be in heaven.

There was just one issue — I was barely scraping by. Clients were getting harder and harder to come by.

Hell, I even agreed to help Rosemary investigate her daughter’s murder for mere pennies when I knew I should’ve been charging her more with all the donations the woman had pouring in. Sure she had other things to take care of, but she could’ve at least paid me a fair wage. But I didn’t have much choice, so I took the job anyway.