Wagers of Sin: Time Scout II Read Free Page A

residents alike carried -- protection against droppings from aforementioned wild prehistoric birds and pterosaurs-then he finally hunted out the Down Time Bar & Grill where Marcus worked as a bartender.
    The Down Time, tucked away in the "Urbs Romae" section of Commons, was a favorite haunt of 'eighty-sixers. Among other things, it was a great place to pick up gossip.
    And in Skeeter's line of work, gossip usually meant profit.
    So he ducked under the girders which half hid the bar's entryway (another reason 'eighty-sixers liked it: the place didn't advertise) and crossed the threshold, already savoring the anticipation of setting his newest scheme into delightful motion.
    The first person to see him, however, was none other than Kenneth "Kit" Carson, retired time scout. Uh-oh ... Skeeter gulped and tried on a bright grin, the one he'd learned to use as a weapon of self-defense long, long ago. He'd been avoiding Kit's company for weeks, ever since he'd tried to sweet-talk that penniless, gorgeous little redhead, Margo, into bed with him by pretending to be a scout-only to learn to his terror that she was Kit's only grandkid. Kit's underage only grandkid.
    What Kit had casually threatened to do to him ...
    "Hi, Skeeter. How they hangin'?" Kit long and lean and tough as a grizzled bear-grinned up at him and took a slow sip from a cold glass of Kirin.
    "Uh ... fine, Kit. Just fine ... How's, uh ... Margo?" He wanted to bite off his tongue and swallow it. Idiot!
    "Oh, fine. She'll be visiting soon. School vacation."
    As one very small predator in a very large pond, Skeeter knew a bigger predator's smile when he saw one. Skeeter took a vow to make himself scarce from anyplace Margo decided to visit. "Good, that's real good, Kit. I, uh, was just looking for Marcus."
    Kit chuckled. "He's in back, I think."
    Skeeter shot past Kit's table, heading for the billiard and pool tables in the back room. Very carefully, he did not reach up and wipe sweat from his damp brow. Kit Carson scared him. And not just because the retired time scout had survived more, even, than Skeeter had. Mostly, Skeeter Jackson had a healthy fear of the older male relatives of any girl he'd tried to get into bed. Most of them took an extremely dim view of his chosen vocation.
    Going one on one with a man who could break major bones as casually as Skeeter could lift a wallet was not Skeeter's idea of fun.
    Fortunately, Marcus was exactly where Kit had said he'd be: serving drinks in the back room. Skeeter brightened at once. Running into Kit like that--on the eve of launching his new adventure-was not a bad omen, he told himself. Marcus would be Skeeter's good luck charm for this venture. The old, familiar itch between his shoulderblades was never wrong. Skeeter grinned happily.
    Look out, suckers. Ready or not, here I come!
    Marcus had just set drinks down on a newly occupied table in the back pool room when Skeeter Jackson made a grand entrance and grinned in his direction. Marcus smiled, very nearly laughing aloud. Skeeter was dressed for business, which in this case meant a short, flamboyant tunic, more of a Greek Ionian-style chiton, really, with knobby knees showing naked below the hem and legs that were far more heavily muscled and powerful-looking than most people would have guessed from the whipcord-lean rest of him. Judging by his costume, Skeeter must be working the crowds that always gathered to watch the famous Porta Romae cycle again.
    The god Janus-Roman deity of doorways and portals, had for some unknown reason decreed that the Porta Romae would cycle open yet again in less than an hour, moving the gate inexorably along to the next opening two weeks hence. Marcus hid a shiver, remembering his single trip through that portal to arrive here. He had never really believed in Rome's strange gods until his final master had dragged him, terrified and fainting, through the Porta Romae into La-La Land. Now he knew better and so never failed to give the