The stale, smoky air in the dive bar thickens rapidly enough to have Tobias Duke reluctantly break off his conversation with the buxom blonde even though he'd been mere seconds from waltzing her out the door and into his bed. As interruptions go, this is one of the worst both in terms of timing and intensity. The energy pattern teasing the edges of his senses is painfully familiar. He maintains a relaxed posture while scanning the dim room.

His brain screams the Ashwood name. He wants nothing more than to slip out the back door to avoid whichever Ashwood has managed to track him down. Unfortunately, for such flighty pains in his ass, they're an annoyingly persistent bunch. They'll just keep following him until he has no choice but to hear them out. It's best to get it over with now so he can have a second try at the blonde.

It has to be Sebastian, the oldest of the Ashwood siblings and Duke's former friend. Olivia and Viola, Sebastian's younger sisters, wouldn't dare set one designer shoe clad foot into a place like Nitty Gritty. Whatever it is Sebastian's after, he's come to the wrong person. Duke doesn't owe the other man a damn thing, and he sure as hell isn't offering up any freebies.

"I'll have what he's having."

The voice, smooth as satin with traces of the Old South clinging to the vowels, twists Duke's stomach like a pretzel. Not Sebastian. Not even Olivia. Viola. He'd been so busy looking for tall, sandy-haired Sebastian that he'd completely missed Viola's entrance. Duke polishes off his lukewarm beer and braces himself to face the youngest Ashwood.

"Not happy to see me, Tobias?" Viola's eyes dance with mirth as she exchanges a five-dollar bill for a cold bottle of beer then turns to lean against the bar beside Duke. She keeps close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin without actually making contact. Duke's one of the most gifted telepaths she's ever met. Despite the protection she's built up, one second of skin on skin contact would give him an inside view of her brain.

"You shouldn't be here." Duke hates Viola's insistence on using his first name. Hates even more the shiver of arousal that dances down his spine every time she says it.

Viola arches an eyebrow at his gruff tone. "Yeah? You my brother now?"

Duke growls low in his throat. He'd forgotten how utterly infuriating Viola can be. He shoots her his most threatening glare and leans down so they're nearly nose-to-nose. "Run along home, little girl."

"I didn't think it was possible, but you've actually gotten grouchier since I saw you last." Viola takes a small step back because, she tells herself, the combination of cinnamon and beer on his breath is a bit too strong and not because she's afraid of him. She takes a swig from her bottle before grinning mischievously up at Duke. "Your grandmother says hello, by the way."

Panic dissolves Duke's glare. His heart skips a beat, two, and then starts up again at a much faster pace. If clairvoyant Viola is speaking with his beloved and, as of two nights ago, very much alive grandmother... "When?"

"Five minutes before I walked in here." Viola rolls her eyes as Duke fumbles in his pocket for his cell phone. That was almost too easy. "On the phone, moron. Granny Duke is still alive and well. Says you owe her a visit, too."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Scare the crap out of you or call your grandmother?"

Duke clenches his fists while fighting the urge to wrap his hands around Viola Ashwood's slender white neck. This conversation needs to end before he does something that will land him in jail. "Either. Both. All the above. What do you want, princess?"

"You really have to ask that question, Tobias?"

He doesn't. Even half-drunk, he can make a pretty good guess at what Viola wants. A year earlier, the few remaining members of her family quit the Network. Duke's offer of assistance had been thrown back in his face and angry words were shouted. Bridges burned. As head of the South Central branch of the federally-backed demon-hunting organization, Duke's the only person for five states with the power to let Viola back in. Not that he is giving it even a moment's consideration.

"The answer's no."

Much to Duke's surprise, Viola simply shrugs elegantly and finishes her beer. "Okay. Can't say I didn't expect that. Had to try, though." Dainty fingertips ghost along Duke's tanned forearm. "Be seeing you, Tobias."

"Not if I can help it." Duke watches her walk out of the bar. The air returns to normal as soon as the door swings shut, but Duke can't relax. When his blonde potential conquest returns and slides his hand along his thigh with eyelashes fluttering provocatively, he shakes her off. The mood's ruined. Pissed at himself and Viola Ashwood, Duke storms out of the bar in search of a brawl. The more violent the better.

Two nights later, Duke is in a new bar. It's twenty miles from Nitty Gritty, and the pounding trip-hop music can be heard from a block away. The patrons are all kids in their early twenties dressed in varying shades of red and black. He's fairly certain he saw a set of fake vampire fangs on the bouncer. He'd chosen a place he'd never been before in case Viola is staking out his favorite hangouts, but still keeps on full alert as he sips from a pint glass full of imported lager.

He feels her as soon as she enters. The air changes and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Will he always be cursed with internal Ashwood radar? That thought alone is enough to have him considering a move to a monastery high in the Himalayas.

From his corner table, he watches as Viola sashays onto the crowded dance floor. She deftly maneuvers out of reach of searching, greedy hands. She's perfectly content dancing with herself. She sways, gyrates, and bobs to the pounding beat in uninhibited pleasure. Viola Ashwood is liquid grace, and Duke's not the only one who notices.

Duke had been too flummoxed the other night to pay attention to her appearance, but now he takes the time to admire the changes. Awkward, angular Viola has certainly filled out nicely. As a healthy, red-blooded male, Duke appreciates the way tight black pants hug her hips and how the satiny sapphire halter top outlines her curves. When she lifts lean, muscular arms over her head and flashes a strip of toned abdomen, Duke's mouth goes dry.

As if she’s the mind-reader, Viola tosses thick auburn curls over her shoulder and meets his hungry stare. A feral smile curves pink lips and she winks before turning back to the lanky frat boy trying valiantly to match her rhythm. Duke's prepared to sit back and wait for Viola to come to him. Let the girl have her fun. Seeing the college kid clamp one long-fingered hand over Viola's hip, however, brings Duke to his feet.

While he crosses the room, the song changes to one equally loud as the previous song but with a slower, sultrier beat. Duke easily moves in behind Viola. She shimmies back so only inches of hot, charged air separate them and college boy's hand falls away. Duke possessively grips both of Viola's hips while growling a warning at the other man. The kid holds his hands up in surrender and retreats to search for easier, unattached prey.

Viola's head tilts back when Duke grunts in approval. Her hazel eyes are heavy with desire and amusement. She licks her lips and tries to clear the lump in her throat. "Hello, Tobias."

"Stalking now, Vi?"

She chuckles lowly and rolls her hips back so that she brushes against Duke. His fingers tighten and she's sure she'll have bruises in the morning. "Just looking for a good time. Don't take it personal."

"Trust me, sugar. I take this very personal." Duke jerks her back so that she's flush against him. She twirls on her toes so they're face to face and winds bare arms around his neck. He slides his hands up over her hips so they rest just under the hem of her shirt.

She rises up as he angles his head down. Their lips meet somewhere in the middle. There's no uncertainty or contrived coyness in the kiss. Duke's warm lips are hard and demanding, but Viola's not prepared to give up control so easily. She flicks the tip of her tongue against the seam of his lips.

"Let me in."

The words, spoken in Viola's husky voice, echo in Duke's head. He eagerly complies. Hot hands stroke the smooth skin of her back while his tongue duels with hers. The rest of the bar, hell the rest of the world, disappears. He feels her knees weaken and grins smugly against her mouth.

The need for oxygen has Viola breaking away first. She gulps a lungful of air and fights to steady her racing pulse. Who'd have guessed Duke was such a good kisser? His kisses are flavored with cinnamon, hops, and midnight. It's addictive. She bats her eyelashes as she's seen Olivia do a thousand times before and runs a fingertip along the back of Duke's neck. His eyes, darkened by lust, are hypnotizing.

"Let me in, Tobias."

Duke freezes. He lets his shields drop, busts through Viola's, and reaches into her mind. Slipping into her mind is as comfortable as slipping between the sheets on his bed, but he doesn't take the time to enjoy the feeling. He's on a mission for answers. What he finds is disappointing. As much as he wants to, there's no mistaking her meaning. Damned one-track minded bitch. "Answer's still no, sugar."

Not at all apologetic for her actions, Viola presses a lingering kiss to the curve of Duke's stubbly jaw. She slips out of his lax grasp. Regret, though Duke can't tell if it's at being caught or having to give up their earlier activities, colors her tone. "Pity."

Without a backwards glance, Viola saunters out into the humid night air. Duke follows as soon as he trusts himself not to chase after the little tease. He tries to keep his mind off of Viola, but standing under the icy water streaming from the showerhead, he wonders if she's as miserable as he is.

The only thing surprising about finding Viola at the sports bar three nights after the incident on the dance floor is that it takes her two hours to show up. Duke doesn't spend those hours pining for her, though. He's used his best lines on a curvy brunette, and by the time Viola pops up at his side, the brunette is practically eating out of Duke's hand.

He sends his future bed-partner off in search of a vacant pool table. He's got a firm policy about mixing business with pleasure. After being played for a fool and falling face first into her trap, there's no way dealing with Viola Ashwood can be anything but business.

Irrationally angered by the cold shoulder she's received, Viola grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him soundly by way of greeting. Both are noticeably out of breath when the kiss ends. As Viola sits back with a satisfied smirk, Duke makes a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He gulps nearly all of his rum and Coke as if trying to wash the taste of Viola out of his mouth. Viola's smile falters.

"Bastard."

"Bitch."

She orders Duke another drink and one for herself as well. When the drinks arrive, she drops her purse and Duke, his grandmother's voice ringing in his head, promptly bends down to pick it up. After thanking him, and slipping a vial into her pocket, Viola props her head on her elbow. She studies him as if he's a new, alien species. "You're being very difficult, Tobias."

"Maybe you should take the hint."

"Subtlety's overrated."

Duke huffs and sips his drink. "Not a chance in hell. That blunt enough for you?"

Viola shakes her head in dismay. Stupid, stubborn man. She orders a second drink for herself and third for Duke but does not speak another word to him. It makes him even more suspicious. Was she not going to plead her case? Demand that he listen to her? Try and kiss it out of him again?

Seven minutes later, Duke's tongue feels like it's wrapped in cotton. He swallows the last of his third drink and sucks an ice cube into his mouth. His limbs tingle and his head aches. The room dips and spins making his stomach churn.

Viola sighs as she rescues the glass from his numb fingers and sets it on the bar. "I'm sorry it had to come down to this, Tobias."

Duke doesn't respond. He slumps forward, his head striking the scarred wood of the bar with a dull thud. Viola retrieves the keys to his truck from the front pocket of his jeans. She glances around the bar in search of assistance, her eyes finally landing on a brawny man at the other end of the bar.

Plastering on her most innocuous smile, she taps him on the shoulder. "Excuse me. I was hoping you could help me. I'm afraid my husband's had a few too many and I can't get him to the car by myself."

The man leans over and frowns when he sees who she's pointed to. "That man's your husband?" When Viola nods, his frown deepens. "I could have sworn he was the one flirting with my sister earlier."

Viola blinks rapidly and forces out two very believable tears. She sends a mental thank you to her seventh grade drama teacher. "It could have been. He's got... wandering eyes."

The man helps her get Duke out of the bar. Unfortunately Duke's head happens to hit the door before they make it outside. When Duke accidentally falls out of the man's grip and slides to the ground in a boneless heap, the man not-so-discreetly kicks him in the ribs twice. Viola has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Maybe she'd been a little too believable. Once Duke is strapped into the passenger seat, Viola is subjected to a two-minute lecture on the worthlessness of the man she's married to before she can leave.

Duke wakes in his bed with absolutely no recollection of how he got there. His head hurts worse than with any hangover he's had before and it feels as if he fell down a flight or two of stairs. His brain is fuzzy, but he can recognize the woman on the bed beside him. Viola, propped against the headboard with eyes glued to the screen of her Smartphone, doesn't flinch when Duke slaps weakly at her thigh with a leaden arm.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. Give me a sec." She hits a button to send the e-mail she'd been writing and puts the phone into the pocket of her jeans. She shifts until she's sitting cross-legged facing Duke. "How're you doing?"

Duke rubs a hand over his face hoping it will clear his head. No dice. "What did you drug me with?"

"Foxglove."

Duke curses under his breath. He fights against the sluggishness weighing him down and tries to sit up. She's crossed a line and this time he really is going to kill her. "Vi -."

Viola shoves him back against the bed. "It wasn't much, I promise. Just enough to knock you out. And, before you say anything, I know you're allergic. I was extra-careful."

"You poisoned me."

Viola's cheeks redden. That's certainly one way of looking at it. A way she's choosing to ignore. "You should stay in bed for a while. You're liable to be a bit sore. I'm really sorry for that. Turns out the guy I picked to help me get you to the car was the brother of the girl you'd been hitting on. He didn't take too kindly to a married man trying to pick up his sister."

"What? Married?"

Viola waves a hand dismissively. "It's a long story. Anyway, I bet you're hungry. I'll get you some water and something to eat. That'll help. Ham and cheese sandwich okay with you? I think I saw some non-moldy bread on your counter."

"You poisoned me."

"It's not like I was trying to kill you."

"You. Poisoned. Me."

Viola rolls her eyes. "How long are you going to keep harping on that? I don't need an exact number; a ballpark figure will do."

"Hell, I don't know, Vi. I don't really have a good frame of reference. It's not like anyone's tried to poison me before."

"That's what you think." Viola pats his cheek condescendingly as she passes by on her way to the door. In the doorway, she crouches down beside a large dozing dog. She scratches behind his ears before directing his gaze to a livid Duke. “Make sure he stays, Finn.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a dog.” The word idiot isn’t said aloud but definitely implied by the tone of her voice. She curls an arm over Finn’s ears as if trying to protect him from Duke’s words. “He’s a Kuvasz, an ancient Hungarian breed used to guard livestock. Isn’t he adorable?”

Duke snorts. “Not by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve seen demons cuter than your dog.”

Viola moves her arm and strokes Finn’s chin. “Feel free to bite the mean man, Finn.”

Every time Duke sets even one toe on the carpeted floor, Finn raises his massive head and growls. Duke gives up and settles back against the pillows. Glaring at the hairy beast makes him feel like less of a wimp. “You’ve got a very obedient dog.”

“Mmm, it’s usually how I prefer my guys.” Viola reappears with a plate and bottle of water in hand. She easily side-steps Finn and sets the food and drink on the nightstand beside Duke. Sitting on the end of the bed, she pats the space between herself and Duke’s legs. “Up, Finn.”

“Don’t let your mutt on my bed!” Duke envisions sheets covered in white dog hair. He should make her strip the bed and wash the sheets before he kicks her ass to the curb.

“Don’t worry, big baby. He won’t hurt you unless you try to hurt me. Finn’s a good guard dog.” Viola cradles Finn’s head in her lap and shifts him so that his body pins Duke’s legs to the mattress. “Aren’t you, sweetie?”

Finn barks what Duke assumes to be an agreement. Duke sniffs the sandwich suspiciously before taking a bite. He hopes Viola had been honest when she claimed that murder had not been her intention. He's starving. He finishes the sandwich in three bites and washes it down with the water.

“We need to talk.” Viola continues to pet Finn’s head. The motion is as soothing for her as it is for her dog. She can’t bring herself to meet Duke’s accusing eyes.

”No kidding, sugar.” Duke puts the cap back on the water bottle and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve made damn sure you have my undivided attention. Better start talking.”

“I want back in the Network.”

That’s not at all a surprise. It’s what Duke assumed she was after. “Your family quit, remember? I have a perfect recollection of your saintly brother telling me where I could stick my help and the Network. I also recall your darling sister throwing her Network-issued phone against my living room wall.” He tilts his head as if actually replaying the memory in his head. “It made a good sized dent, by the way. I should have charged her for the repairs.”

“I didn’t turn in my decoder ring.”

“Didn’t figure you had to. Ashwoods stick together. Isn’t that the family motto?” Duke gasps theatrically and presses a hand to his chest. “Don’t tell me there’s been a rebellion!”

“Screw you, Tobias.”

“There’s that Ashwood spirit.”

Viola blows out a frustrated breath and reminds herself to stay calm. If Finn were to pick up on any of her agitation, he would undoubtedly go for Duke’s throat. That definitely wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Please, Tobias?”

“This is my territory, sugar. As long as you’re in it, the answer’s always going to be no way in hell.”

“Fine. I’ll move.” For Viola, it’s as simple as that. Her business is the only tie she has to Houston and she can run it from just about anywhere.

Duke laughs until his bruised ribs protest. He wipes the tears from his eyes with a thumb. The confusion and indignation on Viola’s face only add to his amusement. “Even if one of the regional heads could look past the fact that your father’s been possessed by one of the strongest demons we know of, they’d never, for one second, forget that you’re an Ashwood.”

“So what if I’m an Ashwood?” Viola’s always assumed that Duke’s bias against her family was a personal thing, that Sebastian had stolen a toy when they were kids or Olivia had refused to go out with him. What had her family done to earn them loathing on a national level?

Duke can’t tell if her ignorance is feigned or genuine. Doesn't really matter either way. She's not a Tracker, therefore she isn't his problem. “Your family name carries more baggage than a 747. You Ashwoods have got a long history of being cocky know-it-alls with a thirst for power and glory. That's a dangerous combination, sugar. You're family's a taint no group of Trackers wants. One I’m more than glad to be free of.”

“Then I’ll go freelance.”

Duke laughs again despite the agony it causes. She’s got even less common sense than he’d given her credit for. She has no idea what tracking, real tracking is like. She’s been cocooned by her family all her life. She won't last two days out on the road by herself. “You go right ahead, sugar.”

“I will.” Viola nods decisively and motions for Finn to get off the bed. Before Duke can make a grab for her, there is the whole matter of poisoning he’d still like to straighten out, she’s off the bed and in the hallway. “Bye, Tobias. Hope you feel better soon.”

Duke hears the front door slam shut and a car start up in the driveway. He doesn’t have the energy to make it across the room to look out the window. He lets his head fall back against the pillows and groans. Viola Ashwood tracking demons on her own. Just the kind of trouble he doesn’t need.