This is not the right title.
…
He took a swig of his beer. “So. Were you buying, or selling?”
“Buying,” Serenity immediately replied. “At least, I assumed I would be. The late marquis had a reputation for being able to find accurate, yet unflattering information. If he claimed to have uncovered something that would be worth my time to bury, he probably did. He certainly told me to bring plenty of gold.” She sniffed. “As if a bank draft from the Bank of Hershey would not be honored at any bank on the continent!”
“But you said you didn’t do for him,” Waylon noted. “No skin off my nose if you did, you hear me? I’m not the only man who’d say a blackmailer with a sliced throat got off easy. You play that kind of game, you win those kind of prizes.”
“Which is why I do not prefer that kind of game, Mister Salvager. Besides, the secrets he had loomed larger in his head than mine. I am far more interested in how he found the information to begin with. Blackmail is an inconvenience, easily solved with money. Telling secrets? Now, that is a betrayal of trust.” Serenity tossed back the shot of whiskey that she had ordered. “I had not yet informed the marquis that revealing who his seller was would have been part of the deal.”
