I glowered at him, not sure I could believe that he was actually talking to me. What’s more, he wanted information, as if we were on the same side. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” “I see.” He reached into the pocket of his vest, pulling a small purse free. “What’ll it cost me?” “Four years,” I answered heavily. His brow knit in question. I took a step toward him, and his hand tightened on the purse. “Give me back the four years I spent on that island. Then I’ll tell you which one of those dredgers is most likely to cut your throat.”
