Curse of the Condor Read Online Free PDF

parrot-like birds hanging onto vines, eating fruit off a tree. Then in one startled motion, commotion in their squawks, they took off in flight. She'd never seen or heard anything like it.
    "Macaws," he told her.
    "I suppose we startled them," she said.
    "Not us. There's a predator somewhere nearby."
    "A p-predator?" Her eyes scanned the shore, much the same as his eyes scanned their surroundings earlier. “What kind of predator?"
    “Probably just an ocelot. Hiding out till nightfall in the trees somewhere."
    "An ocelot." She’d shown a photo of one to her students just last week. “A small wildcat of the Amazon region.”
    "That’s right. Kind of like a small jaguar in a way."
    "Jaguar," she repeated, suddenly the image of a cute, small furry animal growing in size - its teeth lengthening and sharpening in the process. She hadn’t compared the ocelot to a jaguar before. But now that he mentioned it, she was sure it was just as deadly. She could only hope they weren’t going to be running into either of these on the trip.
    He stopped rowing and put the oar in the boat, letting them drift instead. He took off his hat and handed it to her. Instinctively, she grabbed it.
    Next, he put his arms behind his neck, and in one swift motion brought the poncho up and over his head, exposing his bare, bronzed chest. She gasped when he handed her the poncho. Now she sat with a half-naked man, trapped in an overcrowded canoe with her knees rubbing up against his.
    "Put it on," he told her. "It may be thick and warm, but at least it'll protect you from the sun. With skin as white as yours, you'll be roasted in no time.”
    She surveyed his sturdy chest as he paddled, her back to where they were headed. She didn’t doubt he could maneuver without an oar if need be. Backward, forward, nothing was impossible for this man, and he made it all look so easy. His muscles worked with each dip of the oar, displaying corded sinew in perfect proportions under his golden skin. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. The only time she’d ever seen someone with a body like this was in her dreams, or perhaps a magazine. But this was real. And he was so close he could probably hear her sweating.
    She only hoped he couldn’t hear her thoughts. His arms and chest were covered with tattoos. Most were some kind of designs that wrapped around his limbs. Some were in black, others in vibrant colors of orange, green and red. Then she notice the head and body of a snake that spiraled down his chest and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. She caught a slight smirk from him, and quickly darted her eyes in the opposite direction.
    That's when she noticed the big bird on his left upper arm.
    "That’s an interesting vulture,” she said, subconsciously putting her hand to her chest where her own lie beneath.
    "Condor," he answered and kept rowing, not bothering to explain anything further.
    Condor. So her trinket wasn’t a vulture but a condor. That sounded much better, indeed. "You like tattoos, don't you?"
    Silence. He just nodded toward the hat and poncho in her hands.
    She looked at the clothing and then back to the man who sat before her, and she wondered if she really wanted to wear his clothes. His body may look impressive, but he had a lot of facial hair. Too much. And she wasn’t quite certain about his hygiene. And those dirty toes made her wonder when he’d last bathed.
    "I don't have cooties," he told her. "My clothes are safe to wear."
    "Oh, I didn't think that - I just . . . " It was exactly what she was thinking. Actually, lice to get technical and several tropical diseases, but she would never admit it.
    His eyes met hers and then his gaze dropped down her chest and to her bare legs. He had a hungry look in his perusal, and suddenly she had the feeling the predator he’d spoken of was right there in the boat with her. Without giving it another thought, she hurriedly pulled the poncho over her and slapped the hat upon her