"Have you lost brain cells or something?" There was an edge of incredulity in her voice. "Why the hell are you messing around with him again?"
"Because I needed someone who knew the streets and who could mix it up with street scum without raising suspicions." I couldn't quite hide my irritation. I'd really had enough of people questioning my judgment today. "He's a source, nothing more."
She studied me for a moment; then a warm grin broke loose. "Spoken like a true daughter of mine. Your mother would be horrified."
I smiled. "She always did blame you for my wild ways."
"Yeah, she did." Her grin faded. "So tell me about the hellhounds."
I did so. Once I was out of the shower, she sealed the few wounds that were still bleeding, patched up the rest, then fetched me some clean clothes. When I was dressed, she dragged me into her arms and hugged me fiercely.
"Ris, we're here if you ever need help. Remember that."
I blinked back sudden tears. "I know, but—"
"But you are incredibly stubborn and want to do things your way." She stepped back, a slight smile twisting her lips. "You really could have been mine, we're so damn alike. Which is why I'm reminding you. I don't want you making the same mistakes I did."
"I won't."
Her gaze searched mine for several seconds, and her smile become stronger. "You won't seek help, you mean." Her voice was wry. "Not unless you absolutely have to."
I didn't say anything. She laughed, then caught my hand and tugged me toward the living room. "Let's go get you fed, before you fade away into nothing."
* * *
I'd made it through three meat and salad sandwiches and was feeling a hell of a lot more sociable when the phone rang. The ringtone told me it was Rhoan, and trepidation tripped through me.
I swallowed to ease a suddenly dry throat, then hit the vid-phone's ANSWER button. Rhoan's expression was grim. "He's made contact."