Page 37 of Pulling Strings

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “It’s been two days. Felt like forever.”

“Thought I was a goner?”

“Well…” His mouth twisted. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t too late for that if the Capitol’s prosecution team got their way. But I wouldn’t be here then. Criminal trials were problems for less connected individuals. I had people on the outside.

“Grimm said you surrendered,” Donovan said.

At the sound of our gang leader’s name, I startled in my seat. My ankle chain rattled.

“Shh! Ears in the room.” I angled my eyes toward the female guard manning the wall on his side. She appeared disinterested but, if I had the job of babysitting visiting hours with felons, eavesdropping would be my favorite pastime.

“Right, right,” Donovan replied in a lower voice. “Sorry.”

He fidgeted with the phone cord, looking down with a sadness that made me feel the need to explain.

“There were twenty of them and one of me,” I said. “I’m good, Donnie, but not that good.”

His dark brows furrowed. “They could’ve killed you.”

“Still might.”

“Don’t say that.”

I needed to ask about the gang’s plans. Hopefully Grimm had more to say about my arrest than that I went peacefully. But how could I get those answers with prison staff perched like flies on the walls?

“I’m sorry,” Donovan said, drawing me from thought.

“You’resorry? For what?”

“I shouldn’t have called the stupid cab.” He sighed. “I was just so pissed off. I was gonna show up at Thatcher’s house and fight you.”

I huffed a laugh. “You don’t need me to kick your ass, Donnie. Any of the guys can do that.”

He rubbed his arm, and I remembered the new tattoo he was sporting.

“Shit, Donnie, your hand. Did you—?”

He turned it toward me. No sign of ink. He smiled and winked. Must have used makeup to cover the Hex mark, which merited more credit than I gave him.

I settled in my seat and watched him through the scuffed Plexiglas. It seemed he’d forgiven me for dumping him at the edge of town, and I hoped he’d kept the details of that encounter to himself. I needed Grimm to believe I was worth rescuing, not a loose cannon or worse, a traitor. I turned down Holland Lyle’s “lucrative” offer for the sake of my loyalty. It was admirable. She even said so.

“That’s all on hold now,” Donovan said, staying on topic while my mind drifted. He stared down at his hand, all signs of cheer rapidly fading. “Grimm—” Hecaught himself and turned the name into an awkward cough. “Hesays I have to wait for ‘less tumultuous times’ to make things official.”

I bit back a smile. “Sounds reasonable.”

At least this wasn’t all for nothing. Grimm was proving as savvy as I knew him to be. The gang was one member down with me out of the picture. It was not a good time to let Donovan rush the gang like a wannabe frat boy.

“Did you hear the news?” I asked, ready to change the subject. “About the trial?”

Donovan’s face washed pale. “Yeah. Gr—uh,hesays they don’t have the evidence to convict you, though.”

I nearly choked on my next breath. “That’s the plan? Hope the Capitol has shitty lawyers? I promise they don’t.”

He squirmed in his seat. “I mean, he’s right, though. You don’t…” He searched the air for words. “The people killed themselves, right? Like Warren Reeves?”

My free hand hit the tabletop with a thud. “Can you not with the names and shit?”

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