Red Hot Dragons Steamy 10 Book Collection

by Lisa Daniels

  “That’s fine, Tony. I can work with him.”

  Even under the weirdest circumstances ever. The world really is becoming The Hunger Games, isn’t it?

  “You… you may also be getting a phone call from a detective at the Phoenix Police Department,” Tony added quickly, as if he was just trying to slip it in there.

  Maria perked up. “Why?” she demanded, thinking of Luke Rivers’ message.

  “I don’t know,” Tony replied quickly, but Maria could tell he was lying.

  “Tony…”

  “Thanks, Maria. I have to go. Email me the appointment time for Andrew Blaise when you’re back in the office.”

  The dial tone played loudly in her ear and her blue-grey eyes became slits of concentrated annoyance.

  Oh, I have a bad feeling about this, she thought, locating a pair of cashmere pyjama pants and slipping on a tank top.

  She hurried back downstairs to find the phone number for Detective Rivers, but she did not call him immediately.

  Instead, she plopped into her oxblood chesterfield chair and threw her head back to look at the ceiling.

  The life was never-ending. The patients, the work, the phone calls—they did not stop. There was no such thing as a weekend, not really.

  Is it all worth it? she asked herself. It was almost an age-old question, something Maria had asked herself many times over the years and the answer was never clear.

  She knew what her parents would say.

  “When are you going to find a man to share your life with, Maria? Don’t you want to have children?”

  It was another round of questions to which Maria was unsure of the answer. What man would understand her schedule? How could she have children when she spent so much time babying her patients?

  She thought of how much she privately sneered at the women whose children were raised by nannies and yet she knew if she was ever to be a mother, she would be exactly that woman.

  Maria supressed another depressed sigh, picking up the phone. She fleetingly poised her fingers over the keypad, meaning to dial the number to Pizza Palace, but instead, when her index finger moved, she was calling Detective Luke Rivers.

  No, she thought sadly. Forget about a husband and children. It’s not even worth it when it’s interrupting my dreams of Hawaiian pizza and suicide wings.

  Chapter Two

  The Grudge

  It had been a long while since Detective Luke Rivers had felt a frisson of excitement like the one he was experiencing in the days leading up to Andrew Blaise’s release.

  Fourteen years I have been waiting for this, Luke thought, his palms growing sweaty as the anticipation in his gut rose.

  He stared at the files strewn about his haphazardly organized desk, his eyes flittering over the various bits of information. The case was as fresh in his mind as it had been on the day it had happened. If Luke closed his eyes, he could almost smell the smoky scent of burning leaves in the air as he approached the Third National Bank on North 7th Street in Phoenix.

  But Luke did not close his dark brown eyes. He didn’t want to relive the horror of that day or the agonizing chase for Sam’s murderer which followed.

  I have waited too long for absolution, but it will finally be mine, the seasoned detective told himself silently. I’m going to get Blaise once and for all.

  The phone on his desk rang and it took Rivers a moment to locate the receiver beneath the pile of paperwork.

  “Luke Rivers.”

  “Hello, Detective.” A throaty, sensual voice floated into his eardrum and in spite of himself, Luke found himself aroused.

  Is this a joke? he wondered, his infamous temper flaring. It was Friday night and he should have headed home hours ago. He was in no mood for some jackass playing games with him, but before he could snap, the woman continued to speak.

  “This is Dr. Maria Margolis. I believe you left me a message earlier this afternoon?”

  Instantly, Luke lost his anger and groped to find his own voice. Wow! She actually sounds like that! She’s wasting her talents with the scum of the earth. She’s got a future in broadcasting if she ever wants to change careers.

  “Uh, yeah, yes,” Luke choked. “Thank you for getting back to me, Doctor.”

  “What can I do for you, Detective?” she asked, but there was something wary in her tone.

  Did Anthony Parker tell her something?

  Luke had a hard time believing that Tony Parker had relayed anything. He wasn’t even sure if the parole officer had heard a word he had said when he called earlier that day. Luke had been given the distinct impression that Parker had other things on his mind.

  “I understand that you’ll be taking on a new patient next week under rather bizarre circumstances,” Rivers said. “Andrew Blaise?”

  There was a slight pause and Maria Margolis cleared her throat gently as if she were choosing her words. “Detective, I don’t think I need to tell you the laws surrounding doctor/patient privilege. Whether Mr. Blaise is a patient is a matter of record, but anything else—”

  “I’m afraid you don’t understand, Dr. Margolis. Andrew Blaise is a very dangerous man. I am calling you as a warning.”

  “A warning?” she echoed.

  “Yes. I am not sure how much you know about Mr. Blaise, but let me enlighten you.”

  “Let me stop you,” Dr. Margolis interjected sharply. “I have not yet met Mr. Blaise. I would prefer to make my own assessments, if you don’t mind.”

  Luke was surprised by her resistance.

  “I am not telling you how to do your job,” he said slowly, not understanding why the woman was taking such a tone with him.

  “I appreciate that,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you really want, Detective.”

  Luke felt his jaw clench.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  He loathed that Maria seemed to read his intentions so transparently.

  “As I said, I only meant to forewarn you about Andrew Blaise. The parole board is making a huge mistake not only letting him out early, but allowing him to be on that show. I thought if anyone could talk some sense into them, it might be the person who will be in his head.”

  “If the board believes that Mr. Blaise is safe to be in society, I have to abide by their decision.”

  Her tone was infuriatingly bland.

  She’s talking to me like I’m an idiot.

  “Like I said, I’m just trying to give you a heads-up, Doctor,” he growled back.

  “Well, thank you for your concern, Detective Rivers. Have a lovely weekend.”

  She disconnected and Luke was left with nothing but an acrid taste in his mouth as he replaced the receiver violently onto the cradle.

  Screw her if she doesn’t want my help, he thought furiously. If she’s not careful, she’s going to meet the same fate as Sam.

  Without warning, a vision of Officer Sam Curry’s body lying on the floor of the bank flooded his mind and Luke’s hands became fists. He realized that he was angry not because Maria Margolis had dismissed his warning, but because he had been relying on her help to find Andrew Blaise’s associate.

  And, of course, the unrecovered money.

  ~ ~ ~

  Luke had not bothered to sleep on Friday night. In fact, when he finally left the Phoenix Police Department well after midnight, he did not venture anywhere near his home in Tempe.

  Instead, he went to a local cop bar to drown his sorrows.

  I can’t give up so easily, he told himself as he sipped on a gin and tonic at the bar. I owe it to Sam to bring his killer to justice.

  It was the case which had caused his insomnia over the years, his partner’s corpse still warm flashing through his thoughts and rekindling the ever-burning flames of anger in his soul.

  I will not die until I find what I am looking for, he told himself every day.

  It wasn’t enough that Andrew Blaise had been caught. Luke would not rest until he knew the identity of the man who ha
d pulled the trigger, the man who had made off with over four million dollars that fall evening so many years earlier.

  When Luke had learned that Andrew was facing parole, he had instantly been opposed to the motion, but as he thought about it, he realized that releasing Andrew might be the best thing that ever happened.

  He’ll want his share of the money. He’ll go looking for whoever helped him rob the Third National Bank and demand his share for his silence. It is the only reason he has stayed quiet for so long. I just need to keep an eye on him.

  But this halfway house on film idea was bound to put a wrench in his plans. There would be cameras everywhere and Blaise would be apt to lay low.

  What weak government official okayed this travesty? Reality show cons. What is this world coming to?

  Luke had studied Blaise as he festered in prison like a bug under a microscope. He had kept tabs on Blaise’s visitors, checked his commissary deposits and monitored his telephone calls, hoping for the slightest clue as to who had helped the robber that night. His chagrin only managed to grow throughout the years as no one materialized.

  Rivers popped in to visit the con, just so Blaise was aware he was not forgotten, but his presence did nothing to phase Andrew. Only the usual suspects appeared on Blaise’s visitor logs: his brother, a close cousin, reporters at first, a few groupies, and a couple of lawyers.

  Even so, Luke remained hopeful that Andrew would eventually slip up and lead Luke where he needed to be—pointing a gun at the head of the man who had claimed his partner’s life.

  Andrew Blaise is not stupid, Luke begrudgingly admitted to himself. He has to know that I will be watching him when he is released. That’s why I need Maria Margolis.

  Luke waved a meaty hand at the bartender, who swaggered over to refill his glass.

  “Tough week, Luke?” Angus asked as he poured gin into his glass.

  “They’re releasing Sam’s killer’s accomplice this week,” Luke muttered and as the words left his lips, he realized he may have drunk more than he intended. He shouldn’t have mentioned anything about Andrew Blaise.

  Ah well, Luke sighed silently. Too late now.

  Angus’ blonde eyebrows shot up. “What? He just got convicted a couple years ago!” the bartender exclaimed and Luke laughed mirthlessly.

  “Seems like it, huh? Nope, he’s been in the joint for twelve years. He got paroled—and he gets to star in a reality show now.

  Angus topped off the half-full glass with tonic water from the gun and peered at his long-time regular, making a commiserating noise. “What are you going to do?” he asked quietly and Luke pursed his lips closed.

  None of your goddamn business! he thought hotly, but as he looked up, he read only concern in Angus’ clear blue eyes. After all, Sam had been a friend to Angus, too. Sam had been a friend to everyone.

  Damn you, Blaise! Luke thought angrily. You will pay, too.

  “Luke, you aren’t thinking about doing anything crazy, are you?” Angus asked in a tone which was almost a whisper. He had drawn across the bar to lock eyes with the cop.

  Luke forced a smile on his boxer-like face and shook his head. “Of course not,” he replied. “What good would it do? He’s served his time, after all, paid his debt to society. I’m still a cop, ain’t I?”

  Angus continued to stare at him and Luke was suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

  “What?” he demanded, dropping his drink onto the scarred bar with a thud. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “What are you going to do?” Angus demanded again. Luke exhaled deeply and lowered his eyes.

  There was only one thing he could do—go back to Maria Margolis and beg her to help him.

  “Luke?”

  “I am going to check my temper and swallow my pride,” he answered truthfully, raising his glass in toast. “This is for Sam.”

  “To Sam!” Angus echoed and Luke downed the drink quickly to kill the acrid taste burning in his throat.

  ~ ~ ~

  Luke sat in front of the beautiful two-story home on North Ranch Gate Road, trying to choke back his envy.

  Jesus Christ, am I ever in the wrong line of work, he thought, staring at the white stuccoed house. The front lawn was in pristine condition and Luke idly wondered how much the doctor spent on landscaping.

  I wish I had a few thousand dollars a month to burn on grass cutting, he thought contemptuously, eyeing the property. He thought of his own dilapidated house on Randall Drive in Tempe and felt a flash of disgust.

  He had been sitting in his old Ford Bronco for half an hour, debating whether to knock on Dr. Margolis’ front door or not.

  If I knew more about the woman, I would know how she would receive me, he thought, but his futile attempt to gather information on Dr. Margolis’ character had proven to be a waste of time. All he knew was what everyone else did—that she was a renowned doctor with a stellar reputation.

  Nothing about her personal life or anything Luke might be able to use to plead his case to her.

  Anthony Parker’s best assessment for Luke, despite having multiple dealings with the psychologist over the years, was, “Yeah, she’s nice.”

  Previous paroled patients of hers had called her “a hot bitch” and other choice words, but of course no one had gone to her willingly. All of their treatment had been court-ordered.

  Talking to her other patients was, of course, out of the question.

  Luke decided he was going in blind.

  Sighing, he glanced at the cold coffee in the cup tray he had bought as a peace offering.

  I hope it works, he thought, mustering his courage to try again. It was not that he was afraid as much as he was concerned he would not be able to maintain his temper.

  If she refuses me again, I will simply thank her and leave. Don’t make a scene. Don’t put up a fight.

  Luke approached the columned front door and he felt his resolve turning to irritation.

  Really? Columns on the front door? What a princess. Her husband’s balls must be completely broken.

  Inhaling sharply, he retrained his focus on his reason for being there.

  You are here for Sam. Just keep reminding yourself of that.

  He rang the doorbell and stepped back, holding the lukewarm latte in his hands, ready to greet the doctor. After a moment, he saw movement at the back of the house and when she appeared, he felt his breath catch.

  Is that her?

  He reasoned it could not be as the stunningly beautiful brunette slipped toward the front door, peering at him suspiciously through the reading glasses perched on her nose. She wore only a pair of hot pink pyjama pants and a white tank top which did nothing to hide the shape of her full, firm breasts. She slowly unlocked the deadbolt, pulling open the door.

  The woman was much too young to be a psychologist, Luke thought, trying not to stare at the nipples erectly protruding against the thin fabric of her shirt. His eyes traveled toward her ring finger where a piece of jewelry was conspicuously absent.

  That doesn’t mean much, he thought. but he got the impression that she lived very much alone in the big house.

  It filled him with a rush.

  “Can I help you?” she asked and Luke immediately recognized the voice.

  “Dr. Margolis?” he asked and he cursed as he heard the slight wavering in his voice.

  “Ah, Detective Rivers,” she replied and Luke was stunned. His brow furrowed.

  “How did you know?” he asked dubiously.

  She shrugged slightly. “I minored in linguistics at Stanford. I recognized your voice and speech pattern. What are you doing here, Detective?”

  He thrust the coffee outward and offered her a weak smile. “I brought you a coffee, Doctor. Would you mind if I came in for a few minutes?”

  She hesitated and studied his face as if his expression held the key to her agreeing.

  It was only then that he became aware of how he must look and smell after the night he’d had.

>   “Okay, but I have work to do,” she told him. “And I don’t really have time to argue with you.”

  Luke bristled at her curtness.

  You aren’t arguing with me, he thought furiously.

  “This won’t take long,” he assured her, placing the latte in her outstretched hands.

  She grinned briefly. “Were you sitting in the car a long while debating if you should come in?” Maria Margolis asked conversationally, turning to lead him into the house.

  Luke felt his face flush crimson.

  How the hell does she know things? he wondered, a slow appreciation growing inside him, despite his reluctance to like her.

  “A few minutes,” he confessed. “I didn’t want to alarm you by showing up here.”

  “I don’t alarm easily, Detective,” she told him, shooting him a glance over a smooth, bronze shoulder. “That was what I was trying to tell you yesterday when we spoke.”

  She opened the French doors leading to a perfectly manicured backyard and Luke tried to contain his awe.

  A hot tub sat amid a wisteria of wild blooming staghorn cholla and below it on the second deck sat a state-of-the-art barbecuing system. On the ground level was a sparkling kidney-shaped pool with a tiki bar and cabana.

  “It’s not stifling out today,” the doctor commented, ushering him onto a wrought iron chair. “I hope you don’t mind sitting out here. I imagine that, like me, you get stuck inside so much. It’s nice to be able to enjoy the sun when you can.”

  Luke sank into the cushion and nodded as she quickly gathered the paperwork she had been attacking, placing it into a neat pile at her side. When she was finished, she turned and smiled at him, but there was little warmth in her expression. Luke got the impression that she was humoring him and a familiar sense of anger erupted in him.

  “Thank you for the coffee,” she told him. “But let’s dispense with the formalities and get straight to the point, shall we?”

  Luke gulped slightly. He was unaccustomed to being led in conversations. He was a detective, after all. He was the one who did the guiding.

  “We got off on the wrong foot,” he told her. “I just wanted to speak with you face to face so you have all the facts before you dismiss what I have to say.”