Free Whos Loving You by Mary B. Morrison Page A

myself who she really was. But I wasn’t going to ask her over the phone. I had to look deep into those captivating green eyes. After questioning Honey, I was taking a trip to Las Vegas to find that police officer, Sapphire Bleu. Surely, she knew everything about Honey, Benito, and Valentino. Picking up my cell, I began dialing Honey’s number, then hung up. I blocked my number, then redialed hers.
    “Mr. Hill, Mr. Williams is here,” Beverly said on my landline at the same time Honey answered, “What’s sweeter than honey and more valuable than money?”
    Damn. Her voice was soft and so succulent, I could taste her pussy on the tip of my tongue. My dick got so hard, it throbbed against my zipper.
    “Mr. Hill?” Beverly chimed in my right ear.
    “Hello,” Honey spoke in my left ear.
    Intentionally, I said, “Beverly, send Mr. Williams in.”
    Honey said, “Grant?”
    I whispered, “You are. I’ll call you back.” Then I ended our call.

CHAPTER 11
Honey
    I ’d brought my girls from Las Vegas to Atlanta, and it was my responsibility to make sure no man ever exploited or violated them again. Thus far, it’d only been a few weeks, but they were becoming bored being at home most of the day. I was, too. And a few of them had added on a few pounds. I was not going to have a house filled with overweight, unhealthy women. They’d already eaten breakfast, but come lunchtime, I was ordering Subway sandwiches. I was the only one with transportation, and Onyx was the only one allowed to drive my car. Maybe I should hire a personal trainer to work them out in the morning and an intake specialist to train them on how to properly document cases in the afternoon. Then they could practice interviewing one another in the evenings.
    Sitting downstairs, in the family room, which I’d converted into my home office, I turned on my laptop. I positioned my hand above the keyboard, daze at the peach trees in the backyard. What would I say to the women who walked through the doors of Sweeter Than Honey? What were my beliefs?
    Just as I began typing, the phone interrupted my thoughts. Checking the caller ID, I saw it was a 404 area code, but I didn’t recognize the number. Was it Grant? Oh, my, God. I should be pissed at him. But I wasn’t. My heart started racing. I took a deep breath, exhaled, then answered. “What’s sweeter than honey and more valuable than money?” I was hoping to hear the same response he’d whispered in my ear earlier.
    “My daughter,” a woman replied.
    Frowning, I replied, “Of course, she is. Is she in trouble?”
    “How much?” the woman asked flatly.
    My eyebrows stretched toward my forehead as I shifted my thoughts to business. “Excuse me?”
    “I don’t have a lot of money. How much will you charge me to find her son’s father?” The woman began crying. “It’s not fair that she has to work a second job at a strip club to take care of her son. We’ve got to find him, and you’ve got to help us.”
    Wasn’t this why I had decided to start my business? But I had never envisioned tracking down deadbeat dads. “What’s your daughter’s name, and what club does she work at?”
    “I named her Velvet Waters. Her stripper name is Red Velvet. She works at Stilettos. Her son’s name is Ronnie Allen. His no-good daddy’s name is Alphonso Allen. Oh, and Alphonso is a married man. We live in Atlanta, but my baby, Velvet, met him almost six years ago in Los Angeles, when she was auditioning for a movie. How much?”
    I had no idea how much to charge this woman. “Pro bono,” I said. “E-mail me right away with the details. Include your contact information, and we’ll handle the rest. Have a sweet day.”
    Wow, my first case, I thought. I had to make a good impression. Actually, I was rather excited about finding this Alphonso guy and hearing what his excuse was for not taking care of his son. And if his wife didn’t know about Ronnie, she was about to find out.
    I believed women