Red Hot Dragons Steamy 10 Book Collection

by Lisa Daniels

  “But the ratings will be incredible,” Jamie replied, smiling deviously and Cypress knew the deal was done.

  “Fine. But we pull the plug at the first sign of trouble.”

  “Sure,” Jamie said brightly, but as he stood to leave, Cypress had a terrible feeling that he had just bitten off more than he could chew.

  Chapter One

  The Psychologist

  Maria Margolis sat back and tried to keep her true emotions from playing on her face, but her nerves were already growing raw from the strain.

  “I’m just sad all the time, you know? It’s like no one wants me.”

  Maria eyed Brandi through her horn-rimmed glasses, trying not to clench her jaw as she watched the bleached blonde’s mouth curve into a deep pout of frustration.

  “Am I so undesirable? Don’t you think I’m hot, Doc?”

  Doesn’t she know I can see right through her BS by now? I mean, really, how many years are we going to keep this up?

  “Brandi—”

  “I don’t know what it is about me,” Brandi continued, licking her lower lip provocatively at her. “Wow, you look beautiful in white. You should wear it more often.”

  Maria scoffed, causing the look of self-pity to slip from Brandi’s face.

  “Doesn’t this ever get old for you?” Maria snapped. “Stop your wallowing and flirting. I thought we’d talked about this, Brandi.”

  Brandi looked at her defensively.

  “Why? I’m not turning you on, am I?” she retorted, folding her arms over her too-tight shirt.

  “Brandi, this may have worked on your other therapists, but we both know you’re not a sex addict. No matter how many hours you spend playing this ridiculous game with me, you’re still not getting a male psychologist. You’ve run off too many as it is. So, you can spend our sessions being ridiculous or you can actually talk to me. Either way, you’re stuck with me until I sign off on you and the longer you keep up with these theatrics, the more sessions that is going to be.”

  Brandi stared at her for a long moment, her tongue flickering along her lips. Maria’s steely blue-grey eyes remained pinned on Brandi’s dark brown ones and suddenly Brandi howled like a caged animal. She finally realized she was being called on her shenanigans.

  “This is bullshit!” she screamed, jumping to her feet. “I shouldn’t be here!”

  “Well, it’s part of your parole and I have to say, Brandi, you’re about to be in violation of it if you keep this up. I have patients who genuinely want to be helped. I don’t have time to fight with you. I’ll simply pass along to the courts that you’re being unresponsive and let them do what they will.”

  Maria wondered if Brandi believed any part of the statement she had just spoken. The psychotherapist barely believed it herself. Giving up on her patients simply wasn’t an option.

  “I don’t need any goddamn help!” Brandi fumed. “Just sign the damned paper and tell the courts I’m fine so I can get custody of my kids back!”

  Maria smirked mirthlessly and sat back in her chair. There would never be a time when her hand would sign any such document as Brandi Lanktree was a classic sociopath. How she had been granted parole was one of life’s great mysteries.

  Not really, Maria corrected herself. More like the workings of an overpopulated prison system not equipped to deal with such a manipulative being. But I’ll be damned if I’ll have any part of putting a five- and seven-year-old back in her custody.

  Brandi would not be the first person she had worked with who did not deserve early release and Maria had no doubt there would be many more in her career.

  It didn’t give Maria any pleasure knowing that she was keeping children from their mother, but in this case, she really didn’t have much of a choice.

  Maria was grateful that the work she did for the Arizona Department of Corrections at Perryville only demanded a small part of her time. She could not imagine a life where she had to deal with people like Brandi full-time.

  At that moment, however, Maria wondered why she had ever agreed to the assignment in the first place. It was a thought she had at least three times a day when working with the parolees.

  I’m a glutton for punishment. That’s what it is.

  “We both know you’re not going anywhere until I say you are,” Maria told the fuming blonde conversationally, somehow managing to keep her composure. “Whenever you are willing to accept that, we can begin to move forward with your healing—”

  “What the fuck do you know about my healing?” Brandi howled, her fists bawled furiously. “Did your daddy put out cigarettes on the soles of your feet?”

  Maria steeled herself, listening for a distinctive pitch in Brandi’s tone, but she didn’t hear it and stifled a sigh.

  She’s lying. As always.

  “No,” Maria replied quietly. “Did yours?”

  Again, the women’s eyes clashed and for a fleeting moment, the psychologist saw a glimmer of respect in the younger girl’s eyes, but it was gone before Maria could really capture the moment.

  “Is our time up?” Brandi asked suddenly, switching back to her original demeanor. She knew she had been caught in a lie and was trying to deflect.

  “Nope,” Maria answered. “Ten more minutes.”

  “I’ll spend it in silence, if it’s all the same to you,” Brandi told her sullenly.

  Maria shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “If you have no intention of living life free of restrictions, who am I to stop you?” she replied. “I’m sure you have nothing better to do with your time than spend it with me anyway.”

  An expression of anger crossed over Brandi’s face but she covered it immediately.

  “What do you want from me, Dr. Margolis?” she whined. “I don’t get what I’m doing here.”

  “You’re here because you stabbed the father of your children twenty-seven times and then went out clubbing.”

  Brandi couldn’t hide the look of amusement on her face. “That bastard completely deserved it!” she insisted. “He was a bastard to me and my kids!”

  The same way your father abused you, no doubt. What is wrong with this woman?

  As if hearing her words, Brandi’s face went pale.

  “You won’t tell the parole board I said that, will you?” she whispered.

  Maria gave her a half-grin. “I’ve already told you, whatever you say to me is privileged unless I feel you are going to hurt yourself or someone else.”

  Brandi cocked her head to the side and stared at her. “What would you do if you think that?”

  “Then I would have to report you,” Maria said.

  Brandi smiled a slow, cruel grin and Maria was suddenly overcome with a sense of dread.

  “Then I guess I can never be completely honest with you, can I?” Brandi purred.

  “You know what? I think that will do it for the day,” Maria sighed. “See you next week, Brandi.”

  “I can’t wait, Doc.”

  ~ ~ ~

  When Maria locked up her modest office on West Jackson Street and jumped in her Audi A8, she was exhausted.

  Before Brandi had arrived for her appointment, Maria had made plans with herself which included a nice supper at the country club and a dip in the hot tub, complete with a bottle of pinot noir.

  Suddenly, however, the only thing she could imagine doing was going home, ordering a pizza, putting on her sweats, and cracking open a bottle of bourbon.

  You can take the girl out of Kentucky, she thought wryly, but she did not feel the slightest bit of guilt as she pulled up to her swanky house in the Happy Valley Ranch area of Scottsdale.

  It was bound to be a bourbon and pizza kind of night.

  As she closed the garage door and climbed from the silver car, she sighed inwardly.

  She again wondered why she had committed to the prison service. Maria had a lucrative private practice in Scottsdale, inherited from her mentor and partner, seven years earlier. Her patients consisted of the wealthy and spoiled, vyi
ng for prescriptions of Xanax and Ambien for their anxiety over nannies and extra-marital affairs.

  At first, Maria had been thrilled to have such a steady, voluptuous income, but as the years slipped by, the tediousness of the insipid trophy wives and billionaire brats was growing to be too much for her. She had lost the sense that she was a helping people and instead started to feel like an expensively dressed drug pusher.

  When she had been approached by the Arizona Department of Corrections to work with the new parolees, Maria had been excited by the prospect.

  I can make a difference with these people, help them become functioning, law-abiding members of society, she had thought enthusiastically. Isn’t that why I got into this field? To actually do some good?

  The reality had been much grimmer than she had expected. The former inmates were surly and resentful of being court-ordered into therapy. Counseling was a dirty word to those locked up for assault and armed robbery.

  Toxic masculinity and misandry are not easy to treat, not when everyone is in denial.

  No one wanted to admit they had anger or daddy issues, which made Maria’s job much more difficult than it should have been.

  Thankfully, she only committed to four days a month at the modest offices in downtown Phoenix, leaving the rest of her time free to practice from her upscale location in Scottsdale.

  Thank God it’s Friday, she thought. Maria had purposely arranged to meet the DOC releases on Fridays when she could manage it in her schedule. It gave her the weekend to recover from the trauma they instilled upon her.

  As she entered the back hallway, she slipped off her four-inch black pumps and released the clip from her chignon, allowing her stylish mane of dark hair to cascade about her white silk blouse.

  She paused to peer at herself in the ornate mirror between the mudroom and the laundry room.

  Her smoky blue eyes were cat-shaped and wide, but if Maria looked exceedingly close, she could make out fine lines about the corners of her dark lashes.

  These people are aging me beyond my years, she thought with some bitterness, forcing herself to smile.

  Immediately, all signs of youth returned to her face, lighting up her high cheekbones with a blinding, even smile.

  That’s better, she thought critically, her gaze falling to the subtle swell of her breasts beneath the flattering Christian Dior blouse.

  Maria was in excellent shape, no thanks to her deplorable eating habits and lack of attention to exercise. Genetically blessed she was, with an ample bust line, tapered waist, and long legs.

  Maybe a pizza isn’t a good idea, she thought, but she knew no amount of logic was going to stop her from ordering a large Hawaiian that night and devouring half of it before the night was done.

  Maria wrenched herself from the silver-framed reflection and wandered into the kitchen, flipping on the track lighting from the wall.

  The voicemail light was blinking on the phone and she sighed.

  In the age of cell phones, only a telemarketer could be calling the landline.

  I really have to get rid of that phone. It’s a waste of money.

  Of course, Maria didn’t have to worry about money, not when she was doing so well.

  Which was why she continued to forget about the landline until she saw that light blinking on the phone.

  She continued through the stainless steel and marble room toward the side hallway and the den, pushing open the double doors with the cordless pressed to her ear.

  “You have three unheard messages,” the monotonous voice intoned. “Press one to play your—”

  Maria pressed one, cutting off the irritating voice.

  “First new message…” There was a slight pause before the voice played. “Hi, honey, it’s Dad. I just wanted to tell you that your mother and I are leaving for Costa Rica on Monday so we wanted to have you and your brother over for dinner on Sunday before we go. Can you call me back and let me know? Thanks.”

  Maria sighed and nodded.

  I can suffer through family dinner with the Margolises if I get two months of peace thereafter, she thought happily.

  It was not that Maria did not love her family; quite the opposite, in fact. The Margolis family was too close, something that the intensely private Maria found troubling on occasion.

  She deleted the message.

  “Next message: Maria, hi, it’s Anthony Parker. I know your workload is quite substantial right now, but I have an inmate about to be released on Tuesday. He is a difficult case and I thought of you immediately, knowing your aptitude for handling some of the more troubled convicts. Please call me and let me know if you are able to take on another patient as soon as possible. If you do not reach me at the office, try me on my cell phone at 623-555-8678. Thank you.”

  Maria groaned aloud. It was Friday, for the love of God. Why did they always wait until the last minute to arrange for these things? She knew that Tony was going to be waiting for her call and she had half a mind to keep him pacing the walls of the parole office all weekend long.

  Yeah right. He’ll just keep calling me until I give him an answer, Maria knew. It wasn’t like Tony Parker had a hot tub calling his name at home.

  “Next message: Dr. Margolis, I apologize for calling you at home. I have left you a message on your office line as well as your cell phone. My name is Detective Luke Rivers of the Phoenix Police Department Robbery Homicide division. I have a matter to discuss with you which requires your immediate attention. If you cannot find me in my office at 602-555-1998, I can be reached on my cell all weekend at 480-555-0010. Thank you for your prompt response in this matter.”

  Maria’s dark eyebrows shot up and she pulled the phone from her ear, eyeing it with interest.

  Uh oh, which one of the cons did what this time? she wondered, hurrying over to her heavy wooden desk. She flipped through the rolodex of the unsavory in her mind, trying to remember who had a rap sheet for robbery.

  Or maybe Brandi left the office and committed a homicide.

  That, sadly, was not unlikely.

  She replayed the messages from Tony Parker and Detective Rivers, jotting down their respective phone numbers before hanging up the phone.

  First, a drink, she reminded herself as she stood in her office, temporarily forgetting what she had gone into the room for.

  She became painfully aware of how uncomfortable her clothes had become since entering the house and she quickly poured three fingers of bourbon into a sifter before padding out of the study and up the winding stairs to her bedroom.

  It was odd how she could spend the entire day in a pencil skirt, her shirt tucked tightly into her waistband while seated in a swivel chair, but the second she entered the sanctuary of her house, those same items of clothing became suffocating bonds of death.

  She was already stripping off the garments where she deposited them in the hamper of her two-tiered master bathroom.

  No sooner was she in her underwear than the landline began ringing in her hand.

  “Oh, Tony, really?” she grumbled slightly, glancing at the call display. She inhaled and forced cheer into her voice. “Maria Margolis,” she answered.

  “Hi, Maria, it’s Anthony Parker,” came the harried voice. “Have you got a minute.”

  “For you, Tony? I will make a minute,” Maria replied dryly, but the parole officer did not seem to account for the mild sarcasm in her tone.

  “Good, great,” he rushed on. “I left you a message, did you get my message?”

  “Yes, I just picked it up. I only wandered in the door a couple minutes ago—”

  “Do you have the space for another parolee?” the parole officer interrupted and Maria swallowed her annoyance. It wasn’t Tony’s fault; the man was simply built to go full steam ahead. He was not intentionally rude and Maria genuinely did like him, despite his brusque demeanor.

  “Who is the inmate?” Maria asked, deciding that small talk was in no one’s best interest.

  “His name is Andrew Blais
e. He just did twelve years for armed robbery. He’s being released four years early.”

  Released early on good behavior. That’s something.

  “And he’s a problem?” Maria questioned curiously.

  “He’s a handful, definitely,” Tony sighed. “Between you and me, I have no idea how he was granted parole, but he does have a certain charm when he wants to put it on.”

  So much for that theory.

  “Okay, Tony. I will squeeze him in,” Maria agreed, desperately wishing she was able to refuse. Yet Maria had a difficult time with the word no.

  It's not my fault, she argued with herself. It’s in the Hippocratic Oath. I can’t turn away someone who needs help.

  “There’s one more thing, Maria,” Tony added reluctantly and she waited for the other shoe.

  As if delivering me a hardened, pain-in-the-ass criminal isn’t enough to start my weekend out right. What else, Tony?

  “What would that be?” Maria asked, smothering a sigh. There was always something else.

  “This is… well… it’s… how do I put this?”

  How about you try just spitting it out? That might do the trick.

  “Just like a Band-Aid, darling. What’s the skinny?”

  “One of the conditions of his parole is that he participate in a reality TV show. Some of your sessions might be recorded.”

  “What?” Maria wasn’t even sure she understood what Tony was saying. “Wha… just what?”

  “It’s a long story, but in a nutshell, some prisoners were granted early release if they agreed to participate in this television show.”

  “They agreed to this?”

  Maria was dumbfounded by the revelation.

  I guess if it means early release… but still, the invasiveness of it all.

  Her mouth puckered into a scowl of disgust.

  “I don’t really have a choice, do I? I mean, confidentiality is there for the patient, not the doctor.”

  “It’s a lot to ask, but Blaise is going to need someone to keep an eye on him. I have a bad feeling about him.”