Wagers of Sin: Time Scout II Read Online Free PDF

more hopeful than he had in months, he was forced to apologize for having to abandon his friend so soon after coming to a somewhat uneasy understanding of one another's intentions in this odd friendship. "I am most sorry, my friend, but I must return to work, before the manager returns from watching the Porta Romae cycle, and I have not yet finished all the chores he set me to do. Go with the gods when you step through Porta Romae, Skeeter. Thank you for the beer. And the company."
    Skeeter's grin lit up his face again. "Sure. Thank you. See you in a couple of weeks, then. "
    Marcus smiled, then busied himself cleaning vacated tables and wiping down the bar. Skeeter Jackson strolled out like a man about to own the world.

CHAPTER TWO
    Agnes Fairchild was a nice girl. Not too pretty, but sweet and generous. And great in bed. By skeeter's standards, the shy, academic types were often the most fun: overcoming their inhibitions and showing them a thing or two about mad, wet sex was as good as getting a stunning "10" into bed. He often regretted the fact that his lovers never stayed with him long, but, hey, there were new women coming through La-La Land all the time. And after Skeeter's childhood experiences, he was not choosy about looks. Willingness and sincerity were what counted. A knockout in your own bed was great. But a bombshell in somebody else's bed was no fun at all.
    So when Agnes Fairchild walked into Skeeter's life, he was more than pleased. And when she opened up the chance to do some scheming outside the time terminal, he showered her with every charm at his command. She even taught him enough Latin to get by in case they were separated-which he wouldn't and did not allow to happen-not until the day of the games. Agnes was good at her job, too. Skeeter enjoyed tagging along with her tour group almost as much as he enjoyed a passionate lover willing to share intimacy during sultry Roman nights. The ancient city come to life was like a Hollywood movie set to Skeeter-but a movie set full of real people with real money he could pry loose from real hands that wouldn't miss a few pilfered coins, because they were all dead already.
    Of course, he didn't tell Agnes that. He just enjoyed her company and sights like Augustus' giant sundial and the huge Emporium of market stalls that backed the wharves and warehouses of the Porticus Aemeha -- where he picked up a bit of profit with light-fingered skill-and bided his time while charming everyone from the richest billionaire in the group-whose money pouch Skeeter coveted-to the smallest, wide-eyed little girl who called him "Unk Skeeter." He even liked tickling and teasing her when she tickled and teased him. She was cute. Skeeter had discovered to his surprise that he liked kids. There'd been a time when the sight of another child-particularly boys-had made his blood run cold.
    Long time ago, Skeeter. Long, long time ago. You're not everybody's bogda any more. You're not anybody's bogda anymore. And that was the best part of all. As long as he kept up the con games, the swindles, the mastery of skills a-bitter, deadly childhood had taught him, Skeeter Jackson would never again be anybody's isolated, lonely, private tribal spirit-in-the-flesh, a position that had, much of the time, amounted to that of victim, unable to retaliate when teased, taunted, or hooted at in careful privacy by the other boys, because it was unseemly behavior for a bogda to roughhouse, no matter what the provocation. So he'd developed the knack of endurance and remained a victim because that was the only thing he could do, other than steal the belongings of certain tormentors and plant them in the yurts of other tormentors. He'd grown skilled at the game and enjoyed the results with bitter, malicious glee.
    And all of that was something few people understood, or ever could understand, because Skeeter would sooner die than admit any of it to those who hadn't already figured it out for themselves.
    He