Conquer the Demon

By Shiela Stewart

Bad boy rock star, Mick Monroe has never had to work for anything, one of the benefits of Satan giving him a phenomenal singing voice. So, when he has a chance encounter with a sexy female officer, Mick is determined to make her his. She, on the other hand, refuses to give in.

Rookie Office, Laci Harris is a single mother with a strong determination to do it all herself. Being scorned by an ex-lover, the father of her son, she’s very jaded when dealing with men. Especially bossy, arrogant men. Despite being a fan of Mick Monroe’s band, she refuses to give in to his advances. Even if he is incredible with her son.

Mick never thought he would fall in love, not just with Laci, but her adorable son as well. But how is he going to explain to them that he’s part demon? When he learns of Satan’s plan to gather souls, using his music, he refuses to give in. But Satan doesn’t take no for an answer and threatens his loved ones. Torn between saving the world and saving his family, Mick puts a plan in motion.

One that may cost him his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Nov 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781683611981

Book preview

Book 3

by

Shiela Stewart

Chapter One

Mick Monroe, rock god, was voiceless.

He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, wiped it across his face then swung it over his shoulder. He had everything going for him. Tall, blond, with a rocking body women screamed over, blue eyes that melted the pretty ladies’ hearts, and enough money to live how he wanted where he wanted. He had everything. Except his goddamn voice. Pretty hard to belt out his famous rocking tunes without one. Time to remedy the issue.

He sent out a rare mental call. Rarer still he called with demands. One didn’t make demands of Satan with impunity.

You called?

Yes, I did. In case you can’t hear, my voice is fucked up. I can’t sing.

And you expect me to fix it for you?

Well, I can’t sing my heart out if my voice is all messed up. Do what you do best. Make me better.

The dark shadow loomed behind Mick, towering over him, the image blackening his mirror.

You need to take better care of yourself, my child.

"Yeah, yeah. What can I say? The fans love me and expect to see me, often. No time left to relax."

You need a break. Take one now.

I what? No fucking way I’m taking a break! I have a concert here in Detroit in two days. I can’t let them down.

Mick didn’t cringe when the cloud spun on him, the darkness washing over him like a cold, dry mist.

You will do as I tell you.

Or what?

I shall remove all I have given you.

You wouldn’t dare. The words slipped from his mouth as pressure exploded in his head, spearing into him like hot greedy fingers probing his mind, grabbing his brain and squeezing. An icy hand slid through his face, down to his throat, and grabbed hold of his larynx. The pain brought tears to his eyes.

I never kid. I never lie. I always get what I want.

Okay, Mick screamed in his mind. You win. He let out a huge breath when the hand released its hold.

Go home, relax, take a break, and stay out of trouble.

Yes, sir. He saluted with anything but respect. My voice. Make it all better, Mick demanded.

It will heal, but not today.

Come on, I need to do this show. They paid good money to see me.

They will understand.

The hell they will! They’ll be pissed, demand their money back, and who knows, they might not come back to see me if I ever play here again.

Rest your voice, my son. You will do better for it.

Not bloody likely. I hate resting, Mick grumbled, which seemed pointless since Satan had gone. Fuming, he went to the door, threw it open, and called out to his assistant. Todd. Todd, dammit, don’t make me yell for you.

Tall, thin, gangly, and timid, Todd wore his tan-colored hair long and stringy. But Mick never questioned his loyalty.

Yes, sir. What can I do for you?

Tell Rod I can’t sing. The concert has to be canceled.

Todd’s eyes went wide. Yes, sir. Would you like another warm towel, more tea maybe?

Yeah, sure, but lace this cup with something a little stronger. I don’t know, scotch.

Yes, sir. I’ll see what I can find.

Closing the door, Mick plopped onto the sofa. Rest. What the fuck? But he knew better than to challenge the big guy. Bad idea. Yeah, Satan was the big bad every parent warned their kids about, but he’d given him everything he could want. Even as a child. Satan had taught him to play guitar. From there it had been singing and then on to the big times So okay, fine, he couldn’t sing for a while. No big, in the grand scheme of things. Time to head home and relax.

***

The life of a rookie cop wasn’t an easy one, Laci learned the hard way. Her partner, Detective John hard-ass Briggs, tended to be tough, pushy and rarely called her by name. But her fellow officers reminded her often how lucky she was to draw such an experienced and skilled partner. She didn’t feel so lucky as she headed toward the most disgusting smell she’d ever had the misfortune to endure.

The corpse at the end of the alley reeked of decay. Because she didn’t want to be mocked for the next decade, or have her name and face plastered on the wall of shame, she tried to stay calm. It would have been easier if her partner had managed to hold back his laughter.

Thanks to the heat wave they’d been having, the old guy had cooked up real nice. Disgusting. He’s gone, she called out, and hissed under her breath when Briggs replied with a calm and snide, No shit.

Holding his arm over his mouth and nose, Briggs kept his distance. Call it in, then cordon off the alley and let homicide deal with it.

She hadn’t bothered to cover her mouth, yet her partner had. She took pride in her endurance. You think it’s a homicide?

You tell me. Do a search for ID.

She snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Dark hair peeked out from under the dead guy’s wool hat. Layers of worn, filthy clothing indicated he was homeless. As she knelt, she saw the gaping wound under his chin, and though the heat had dried the blood, it left a rusty stain on the ground beneath him. She sifted through his pockets.

Gonna start necking with him, rookie, or what?

Getting to her feet, she turned a sober face to him as she slipped the gloves off. His throat’s been slit. No ID. I’ll call it in?

Go hard, rookie.

Jackass, she murmured as she sat in the passenger seat and notified dispatch. They waited until homicide showed up then headed out on patrol. Five minutes later, they found their next case.

We’ve got us a speeder. Fancy car, too. Pulling up to the red Porsche, Briggs flashed the cruisers lights, then beeped the siren to indicate he wanted the car to pull over. The car slowed and came to a stop at the side of the road. I’ll call in the plates. You go check it out.

Leaving the car, Laci headed to the speeder. She tapped the window with her knuckles.

The window came down, and a full head of blond hair came into view. When he turned to her, his blue eyes shot right into her.

Good day, officer. What seems to be the problem?

No—could it be? It had to be. She shook her head. Mick Monroe would never be driving about on his own. Not the god of rock and roll. His scratchy voice couldn’t possibly belong to Mick Monroe. You drove above the posted speed limit, sir. Can I see your driver’s license and registration, please?

Sure thing, Officer Harris.

Glancing at his ID, she almost swallowed her tongue.

Let me get out of here so we can see eye to eye.

It’s better if you stay in the vehicle, sir. But when he climbed out of the car, she stepped back, prepared. She had to will herself not to gawk at him. She took the license he held out to her, trying not to babble like an idiot. For God sakes, she’d pulled over Mick Monroe, local boy and big time rock star, speeding. No one would believe her.

I find this more personable.

She fell under the spell of his charming smile. Everything seems to be in order here, Mr. Monroe, but I’ll have to check for any priors or infractions on your record.

I can tell you recognize me. Are you a fan of my music? He inched closer.

She backed off again, held up her hand. Please stay next to the car, Mr. Monroe.

I won’t do anything rash. You have beautiful red hair. I happen to like red hair.

Pulling out her ticket book, she began to write.

Oh come on, Officer, I wasn’t going that fast. You’re not going to give me a ticket, are you?

Laci snapped the ticket off then held it out to him. Yes, Mr. Monroe, I am serious.

Instead of taking the ticket, he grabbed her wrist.

Release me.

Why don’t we go somewhere private and discuss how I should pay for this ticket.

She spun him, locking his arm high up his back, and shoved him, hard, against the car. You have the right to remain silent—

Whoa there, Officer. Let’s talk about this for a minute.

Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.

Mind me asking what the charge is here, Officer?

Bribing a cop. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you. She slapped the wrist restraints on, pressed the button to have them shrink tight to his wrist.

Oh, come on. You know who I am.

What seems to be the problem, rookie?

Rookie. Priceless. I’m being arrested by an amateur.

He attempted to bribe me out of the ticket.

Okay, let’s take him in. He’s got outstanding tickets as well, speeding mostly. Briggs took hold of Mick, leading him to the car. My kids are big fans of yours, by the by.

Thanks. If you remove the cuffs, I would be more than happy to sign a picture for them. I have some in my car.

You may be famous, Mr. Monroe, Laci piped up, but you’re not getting away with bribing a cop—correction—two cops. Cuffs stay on.

Two cops? What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t bribe anyone.

Why don’t you sit back, relax, and save the crying for your lawyer after we lock you up. Laci pulled the door closed, blowing out a breath as the car started rolling. Holy hell! She had Mick Monroe in the back seat of her car.

***

Despite being behind bars, Mick remained jovial. The stunning beauty who’d arrested him walked up to the cell, keys in hand.

You’re free to go.

Why is it I get the impression you don’t like me very much?

You may go. She held the door open, staring at him, expressionless.

Would asking you out to dinner be committing another crime?

I never date the men I charge and lock up. Bad for my reputation.

How about famous rock stars then?

They’re even worse. All ego and no brains.

Ooh, you’ve got some bite to you, Officer Harris.

She addressed another cop standing by. He’s all yours, Bert.

Mick whistled through his teeth as he watched her walk away. A looker with curly red hair and a body begging to be touched. She is something, isn’t she?

And then some. Wouldn’t want to cross her in a dark alley, though. Has a rep as a hard ass.

Mick acknowledged the cop with a nod as he handed him his belongings. Yeah, but a mighty fine ass it is.

Chapter Two

Laci wanted a nice hot bath, a glass of wine, and absolute silence. But when she entered her tiny cottage-style house, music loud enough to break several sound laws vibrated the walls. Her ten-year-old son, Timmy, and his babysitter were dancing up a storm. His curly red hair bounced as he jumped up and down. First she would kill the sitter then her son for not being in bed by ten.

Did they have to be playing a Mick Monroe song, after the day she’d had? She headed for the stereo and turned it off. Her son and Lisa whirled around, eyes wide.

Oh crap. Timmy slapped a hand over his mouth

You said it, bucko. Get into your pajamas and go to bed. Pointing an index finger, Laci shooed her son to his room.

Head down, he trudged away.

I’m sorry, Miss Harris. I lost track of time, Lisa apologized.

Did he give you trouble? She pulled out a few bills, handed them over.

None at all. How did your day go?

Tiresome. I’ll need you again, day after tomorrow, if you’re available?

I am. Same time? Lisa grabbed her purse.

Yep. Have a good night.

I will. Bye.

Laci closed the door behind her and turned to find her son standing behind her. Didn’t I make myself clear? I said bed.

I heard you. I wanted to say I’m sorry. He gave her a big hug then ran off again.

She melted. How could she be mad at him when he was so damn adorable? Removing her weapon and holster, she opened the closet door, knelt down, and punched in the code to the small safe. She placed the gun inside, closed the door, then kicked off her boots. After locking the bathroom door, she stripped off her uniform, hung it on the hook on the door then ran the water. She added a huge dose of peach bubble bath and slid into the water.

Easing down, her hair getting damp, she closed her eyes and let the bubbles soothe her aches away.

After an hour of soaking, feeling relaxed and more like herself, Laci climbed out and slipped into her silky blue robe. She walked to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge, and, turning to grab a glass, she sighed. Dinner dishes filled the sink. She needed to find a new sitter. This was the third time this week she’d come home to a pile of dirty dishes.

She’d started the dishwater when the doorbell rang. Cautious, she headed to the door and peered through the peephole. All she saw were red roses. Yanking the door open, she prepared for anything. Can I help you?

Lowering the roses, Mick smiled a wide teasing grin. His eyes drifted from the thin robe she wore then back up to her face. Oh God, I hope so.

How the hell did you get my address?

He leaned on the doorframe, his eyes twinkling. A few people owed me a favor. So, it’s Laci. Very nice name. It suits you.

I’ll make a note to kill whoever released my address. In the meantime, you can take those ugly flowers and leave.

Hold on a minute. He held the door before she could slam it in his face. I paid a fortune for these babies. What do you mean they’re ugly?

Chump change for you, I’m sure. I hate roses. If you don’t remove yourself from my premises, I will be forced to arrest you, again.

Got cuffs under your robe, Officer? He ran his gaze down then up her body. I don’t think so. I would mind being slammed up against a wall with your form pressing against mine again. Gave me a real thrill.

Get. Out, she said between gritted teeth.

Give me a minute, okay? I came here to apologize.

Excuse me?

I wanted to say I’m sorry for insulting you by trying to bribe you for a date.

I would be careful of what you say, Mr. Monroe.

Everyone calls me Mick.

Your ID said Michael. She knew damn well, everyone called him Mick. She couldn’t remember ever hearing him referred to as Michael.

I prefer Mick.

I think I prefer Michael.

And I would prefer you naked in my bed. No one calls me Michael.

Mick, it is. If you wouldn’t mind, I’m in the middle of doing something.

I can tell. You’ve got quite the body there, Officer Harris.

Goodbye, Mick.

Wait. He stepped in, bracing the door with his foot. Give me a second. It’s not often I apologize.

Why doesn’t that surprise me? She pushed the door a little harder.

I want to take you out to dinner to make up for my blunder earlier.

Which earlier? This morning’s stupid comment or the numerous ones you’ve made since you arrived at my home?

I like your straightforwardness. Very appealing.

I don’t want to appeal to you, Mick. Go, please.

He shook his head, his long blond hair swinging over his shoulders. You didn’t answer my question. Have dinner with me.

No. What a persistent arrogant ass. Maybe he had women falling all over him on tour, but she wasn’t the typical groupie willing to do anything for an autographed copy of his album.

Come on, Laci. What can it hurt?

Look, Michael. She watched his eyes darken at the use of his full name. I don’t want to be seen with you, at all.

Why not?

The last thing I need is to have my face plastered all over tomorrow’s tabloids, claiming I’m your latest conquest.

He ran a hand through the length of his hair, grinning. So, you’ve been reading up on me, then?

She could slam the door on him, take his foot out in the process. It’s hard to miss, Michael. Your face and all your conquests are plastered on every magazine possible.

We could have dinner here, then, if that would make you feel better. No paparazzi around to snap your picture.

Dream on. I am not having dinner with you here, or anywhere else. Move the foot or lose it.

He reached out, grabbed hold of her hair, and let it slide through his fingers. Oh, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of dreams about you, Laci Harris.

She slapped his hand away. You arrogant bastar—

Mom?

She spun around to see her son standing behind her, rubbing his tired eyes. Go back to bed, Timmy. It’s late.

I told you to quit calling me Timmy. It’s Tim. He stepped closer to her, and his eyes went wide with surprise. Are you… you’re not…you can’t be him, he stammered. Are you Mick Monroe?

One and the same. You said your name is Tim?

You have school tomorrow, Tim.

Her son did not acknowledge she’d spoken. I know. I prefer Tim, but my mom still calls me Timmy. He scrunched up his face. I can’t believe it’s you. Holy cow, its Mick Monroe!

Laughing, Mick held out his hand. Do you need to sit down, kid?

Tim shook his head, his red hair bouncing with the movement.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tim.

Yeah, same goes. He took Mick’s hand in his. Wow.

Laci took back control. Okay, you’ve had your thrill. Off to bed or you’ll never be able to get up in the morning.

No chance. I’ll get up. I wanna tell all my friends I met Mick Monroe, in person. Man, they’re not going to believe me.

Still smiling, Mick waved his hand at Tim. Come here, kid.

A cautious mother, Laci held her arm out, stopping Tim from getting closer.

I won’t snatch him or anything, he assured her. Ever had a celebrity autograph anything for you before, kid?

Tim shook his head again. No, never.

Well, let me be the first then. Setting the bundle of flowers on the floor, Mick stripped out of his leather jacket then pulled out a pen and held it against the lining. Want me to make it out to Tim, or Mr. Harris?

Giggling, Tim moved in closer. Tim’s good. Wow, your jacket is cool. Is this the one you wear on stage, in your concerts?

Nah, I have one with Velcro instead of a zipper so I can rip it open when I start. He finished signing his name then handed the jacket to Tim. There you go, kid. See if it fits.

No way. I’m too small. But he slipped it on anyway. Oh wow. It’s so cool. He pushed the long sleeves up, which did no good because as soon as he put his arms down, the sleeves fell over his tiny hands.

Looks good on you, kid.

Thanks, Mr. Monroe.

Everyone calls me Mick.

Sure thing, Mick. Wow, I can’t wait for the guys to see this.

Get to bed before I decide to ground you for staying up too late, Laci warned her son.

Okay, nice to meet you, Mick. Wow.

Hey, kid, do me a favor.

Tim turned, his eyes wide, nodding his head. Sure, what is it?

Make sure your mom puts these flowers in water when I leave.

Tim glanced down at the huge bundle at his mother’s feet and whistled. Man, he gave you all those flowers. Cool.

I thought so, but she said she doesn’t like roses. Go figure.

Yeah, she never gets flowers, though. I’ll take them. He tried to scoop them up, but the length of the sleeves hampered his arms. So he pulled them out, hooking the jacket over his shoulders, then scooped up the flowers. They smell nice, Mom.

She didn’t need her son siding with Mick. Put them on the table, then off to bed.

I will. See ya, Mick.

Night, kid.

Laci blew out a breath. Yeah, well, you’ve had your fun. Go away.

Do you get this kind of attitude from being a cop?

Nope, it’s a God-given trait, one I am very proud of. Good night, Michael. Using force, she planted her palm on his chest, amazed at the firmness of it, then gave him a shove out the door. Before he could protest, she slammed it in his face and locked it. She turned to the dining room, where her son had set the roses, and gave them a cursory glance. She really didn’t like roses. Carnations, daisies, and lilies, those were flowers. As she turned to dump them in the garbage, she saw Mick climbing into his car. Okay, so the guy was damn sexy, hot, gorgeous, and talented, but it didn’t mean she wanted to be his next conquest. Sighing, she turned back to her sink full of dishes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she had a tiny fantasy about him.

Chapter Three

It had taken Laci an hour to settle Tim down after Mick left. He’d insisted on sleeping with the jacket on. No way she was having that. When she took it away, she noticed a bulge in his pocket. The damn fool had left his wallet inside the coat. And she had to return it to him. Perfect!

Checking his release file, she saw that he listed his parents’ residence as his address. She would have thought he’d stay at some fancy hotel. Not his parents’ place.

The next morning, Laci took the steps up to the tall two-story house, admiring its beauty and coloring. It had white siding and dark rust-colored brick scrolled around the base of