BLOODLUST by Sandra Brown (excerpt)
[Mitch had] only tugged off his boots before a ping notified him of an incoming text. It instructed that if he wanted to confirm an appointment with Dr. Dylan Reede for ten a.m. tomorrow, he was to reply with a capital letter cee.
Mitch was the only person in the waiting room except for the receptionist who’d introduced herself as Ellie. She had a kindhearted, maternal aspect and was almost apologetic when she’d asked him to fill out the required forms, which were numerous and, to his way of thinking, irrelevant.
Ellie had informed him that Dr. Reede was still with another patient. She’d invited him to take a seat and told him that the doctor would be with him shortly.
But “shortly” wasn’t short enough. He was thinking of removing his sport jacket when Ellie slid open the window. “The doctor is ready to see you now, Mr. Haskell. Right through there.” She indicated a closed door on the opposite side of the waiting room. “She’s waiting for you.”
He was arrested in the motion of standing up. “She?”
Just then the door was pushed open and a woman emerged. She smiled and came toward to him, right hand extended. “Mr. Haskell? Dylan Reede.”
Holy shit. He croaked, “Are you kidding?”
Maintaining her smile and keeping her hand outstretched, she replied, “Not about my name.”
He stared down at her hand as though uncertain what it was and what function it served, then gave it a quick shake and immediately go.
“Come on back.” She turned away and started for the door she’d left standing open.
As though Ellie had used her sweet demeanor to deliberately deceive him, he shot her a dirty look over his shoulder. Her expression turned wary, although he couldn’t tell if her concern was for him or the psychologist…the one with the beguiling smoky gray eyes and prima ballerina legs.
“Lieutenant Bowie told me that you got sober and stayed sober for six months.”
“Um-huh.”
“Until last Saturday night when you suffered a relapse.”
“Relapse? That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“Bowie believes it was prompted by the date.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, saying nothing. Immediately after realizing that he was jiggling his knee, he forced it to be still.
Softly she asked if he would like some water and motioned toward the bottles on the end table. “No thanks.” Then, “There’s not a clock in here. Is that on purpose? How much time is left?”
“Don’t worry about the time,” she said. “Is Bowie wrong about the anniversary date contributing to the episode last week?”
“I can say anything I want to, right?”
“Yes.”
“I can also sit here like a stump and say nothing at all, right?”
“Yes. But sitting here in hostile silence wouldn’t be very helpful.”
“Not helpful to you. But my hostile silence could be just the therapy I need.” He stood, picked up his jacket, and pulled it on. “I don’t think you and I would ever be a good fit.” He came this close – this close – to adding a sexual context to that, but thought better of it. “It’s been nice knowing you, but I’m outta here, and I ain’t coming back.”
She had stood up along with him. “I wish you would reconsider.”
“I’ll bet you do. You’ll miss out on a paying gig. The mandated sessions with me could really add up. Let’s see, two a week for six weeks.” He started counting on his fingers. “That’s – ”
“Mitch,” she said in a chastening tone. “Insulting me is no more effective than wisecracking. Please think about – ”
“I’ll tell you what you should think about, doc. If you’re getting men in this cozy little nook of yours with all the throw pillows, you really should consider wearing sensible shoes, a longer skirt, an ill-fitting cardigan, and a different face.”
She gave him a chastening look. “Sorry, that tactic doesn’t work on me.” She waited for a beat, then said, “Let’s sit back down and talk calmly and reasonably. Because if you refuse these sessions, Lieutenant Bowie – ”
“Bowie can go – Read my mind.”
“We don’t have to address the hard subjects until you’re ready to. We can start with – ”
“My birth? Childhood? The loss of my virginity? Work up from there to last Saturday night and my fall from Saint John’s grace?”
“I have this same time on Thursday morning reserved for you. Please be here.”
“Sorry. Can’t make it.”
“Then we’ll work around your schedule. I’ll see you any time you say.”
The quip he had planned to say died on his lips. Instead, he jerked his head back and gave her a long, measuring look. “No,” he drawled, “I don’t think you will. See me as a patient, that is. In fact, I can guarantee that you won’t.”
His reached out and curved his hand around the back of her neck. Pulling her forward and up to him, he kissed her. Swiftly but with impact. Then he released her just as suddenly.
Holding her wide, disbelieving gaze, he smiled and dabbed at a damp spot on his lower lip with the back of his hand. “As rules of doctor/patient conduct go, that’s a real no-no, isn’t it, Dr. Reede? Ergo, we’re done.”
Then he went over and opened the door into the waiting room. “Screw the escape hatch. I’ll go out the way I came in.”
Excerpted from BLOODLUST. Copyright © 2026 Sandra Brown published by Grand Central Publishing, a Hachette Book Group company. All rights reserved.
Two years ago, Detective Mitch Haskell lost his wife to a vicious act of retribution, and has since attributed her murder to two men: Roland Malone and the unidentified mastermind of the crime known only as Oz. Malone, a ruthless executioner and drug dealer who fronts as a restaurant owner, neutralizes so cleanly that he doesn’t leave a trace. And he performs his handiwork at the biddings of Oz, the faceless kingpin of a drug trafficking operation whose name alone evokes terror.
Obsessively vowing to avenge his late wife’s murder, Mitch has been on a downward spiral, jeopardizing his closest relationships and drinking excessively to numb his pain. After going one step too far, Detective John Bowie, his former best friend and now his boss, has forced Mitch to get therapy to sort himself out.
Dr. Dylan Reede is immediately empathetic to the pain she senses beneath Mitch’s cavalier attitude and wisecracking. She’s determined to make the most of his mandated sessions. But from the moment Mitch breezes into her office, Dylan finds it a struggle to maintain the professional and personal boundaries that keep her own tragic past at a safe distance.
As Mitch begins to close in on Oz and Malone’s operation, they’re prepared to stop him by any means necessary. And when it’s revealed that Dylan might hold the key to bringing them to justice, Mitch and Dylan’s irresistible attraction to each other may not only compromise both of them professionally, but place them in Oz’s bullseye.