"Barkeep, I'll take another," the chap from the opposite end announced. His loud voice hung in the air like noxious perfume and drew the eye of every patron in the bar. Viola held her sigh back, grabbed a glass, and poured. As she handed over his pint, his rough fingers brushed against hers. He'd slipped her a piece of parchment. Curious. Before she could retreat back to the other end of the bar, he stood, chugged his lager, and plunked the empty glass back down. "Thank you kindly, madam." He tipped his tattered top hat her way, a cheeky grin on his face. Whistling, the man walked out the door. Grimaces weighted the faces of gentlemen and ladies alike in the wake of his departure. Viola swiped his glass and made a retreat back to the washroom. Carefully, she unfolded the parchment. Meet me at the Rusty Scupper tomorrow evening. You want word on Brownetree's brother? I've got it. —The Fox Damn and double damn. While the run-down tavern, the Rusty Scupper, was the last place a lady should dally, the opportunity was too good to pass. She'd been on this bounty for months and couldn't let this chance slip. Viola focused on the name. Should've recognized the scoundrel. A smile curved her lips. No, she couldn't pass up this opportunity. Under her alias, the Brass Violet, she'd maintained a healthy competition with most, but none as much as the Fox. Like his namesake, he snuck in and snatched her targets before she had the chance to nab them. He stole the pickings of others, especially hers, for his own entertainment. So why the peace offering? If he had information, he wouldn't share it unless he needed something from her. Which meant this bounty was about to get interesting.