Chapter 29 · The Hold Does Not Open

"Where did you get my code." Calder's fist stayed closed around the inhaler, an inch from my mouth, close enough that I caught the plastic-and-metal smell of it on his skin. "Say it again. Slower this time."

I couldn't. My throat had a fist of its own around it, tight and wet-sounding, every breath coming back smaller than the last. "Give it," I said. "Give it to me and I'll tell you anything."

"You'll tell me now." He didn't move the inhaler an inch closer. If anything he pulled it back, like my wanting it made it worth more to keep. "Thad's crew doesn't drive off because I burned some paper, Ira. They regroup. Forty minutes, maybe less. So we're doing this fast."

"Forty minutes and you're still asking me trivia?" My chest hitched, a whistle at the top of it that scared me worse than the knife had. "I watched you. Three weeks ago. Wet locker, you thought I was asleep on the bench, you typed it into your phone to send the schedule to the dock foreman. I have a memory, Calder. I'm not wired, I'm not a witch. I just watch you. Constantly.