"Linda Evans - Time Scout 2 - Wages of Sin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

ask him questions if the answers won her a tidy sum in some bet.
But she was still smiling, friendly-like. The Christmas season, maybe?
Manifesting itself in a determined "do unto others" even if it killed her?
She took the initiative once again. "So, what were you grinning about?
Misadventures, schemes, and scams downtime?"
"Ann! You wound me!"
She just laughed, eyes and the twist of her mouth clearly skeptical.
"Honestly, I was just taking in all of... that."
She followed his gaze and her eyes softened. "It is; um, overwhelming,
isn't it? Even crazier than last year's contest."
Skeeter grinned again. "At least I don't see any three-story, arm-waving
Santas to catch fire this year."
She shared his laugh. "No, thank goodness! I thought Bull Morgan was going
to fall into a fit of apoplexy when he saw the smoke and flames. Good thing
Pest Control's good at putting out fires, too."
"Yeah. They were good, that day. You know," Skeeter said thoughtfully, "I
think the holiday season is my very favorite time of year on station. All of
that," he waved a hand toward the insanity surrounding them, "cheers a guy up.
You know?"
Ann studied him minutely. "So, the holidays cheer you up, do they? Rachel's
hands are always full this time of year with half-suicidal people who don't do
holidays well. But with you, well, I think I can guess why."
"Yeah?" Skeeter asked with interest, wondering how transparent he'd become
since leaving Yesukai's camp.
"Let's see ... I'm betting-figuratively," she added hastily, "that the
holiday season is usually the closest you ever come to getting rich. True or
false?"
He had to laugh, even while wincing. "Ann, with triple the ordinary number
of tourists jamming Commons, how can a guy lose? 'Course I'm happiest this
time of year!" He didn't add that the pain of five missed Christmases-holidays
that had nothing to do with the expensive bribes his parents piled under the
tree each year-were also responsible for his determined merrymaking as he
caught up on all the childhood holidays he'd been alone.
Ann just sighed. "Skeeter, you are an irrepressible scoundrel." She caught
his gaze, then, and shocked him speechless. "But you know, I think if you ever
got caught and kicked off TT-86, La-La Land would be a lot less fun. You're
... intriguing, Skeeter Jackson. Like a puzzle; where all the pieces don't
quite fit right." With an odd little smile, she said, "Maybe I ought to ask
Nally Mundy about it." Skeeter groaned inwardly. Not too many people knew.
Skeeter's had been a fleeting, fifteen-second sound-byte's worth of fame,
timmed between a triple homicide and a devastating hotel fire on the evening
news, years ago. But Nally Mundy knew. Skeeter hadn't quite forgiven him for
discovering that juicy little tidbit to hound him about.
Before he could lodge a protest, though, Ann said, "Well, anyway, good
hunting-whatever you're up to. See you 'round in a couple of weeks."
She left before he could open his mouth.
And Ann Vinh Mulhaney wishes one good hunting, no less. La-La Land felt
like it had turned upside down.
Skeeter glanced up, more than halfway expecting to see crowds of people
thronging the Commons' floor, rather than the distant, girdered ceiling.