Esperanza Read Online Free PDF Page A

ask, the crowd closed in around him, cutting him off from the man, the cop, the door, the windows. Ian hastened back to the food line, unnerved by what had just happened, but grateful to find that Stephanie and her family had moved on.
    Never mind that he couldn’t read the menu. He would point at anything, eat anything, drink anything. And then he would dare the ticket line and get his itinerary squared away. Galápagos. Darwin.
Please.
    Tess was shocked that people continued to peer through the windows of the building, yet no one had ventured outside. Maybe just as well. Her federal badge wouldn’t mean much here and she didn’t want to get stuck answering questions. She had been inside the outhouse. She didn’t know what had happened. But she probably was the last person who had seen the man alive, so it all could end up like something out of a Graham Greene novel. American Fed held for questioning. American Fed jailed. American Fed never heard from again.
    Finally, at the front of the line, she bought a thick, hot coffee, three steaming vegetable empanadas, a couple of mangos, a papaya, a knife and spoon, and two more bottles of water. These rich odors exacerbated her hunger and she quickly unwrapped one of the empanadas, bit into it. The crust and vegetables tasted so fresh they melted in her mouth. She stood there feeling like a fool, devouring the whole empanada, licking her fingers, unable to recall when she had eaten last. She was tempted to wolf down the other two empanadas as well, but remembered how hungry she had been on the first bus trip and decided to save these.
    “Excuse me.”
    Tess looked up at the man who towered over her and felt as if she nearly swallowed her tongue. George Clooney. Here. In Ecuador. Speaking to her. He seemed taller in person than on the screen, at least six three. Gray threaded through his beard, his eyes were dark pools into which she mightfall. He appeared to have the body of a runner, hard, compact, lean. She didn’t remember seeing him on her bus.
    “Uh, yes?”
    “An American. Fantastic. Can you read Spanish?”
    She couldn’t take her eyes off him—and not just because of his resemblance to Clooney. There was something undeniably sensual about this man—the shape of his mouth? Those eyes? His lean body? All of it. Then she realized he had asked her a question and she still hadn’t answered.
    “On a good day I speak Spanish passably,” she said, and he laughed and showed her his ticket.
    “My bus just dropped me here, supposedly because that’s what’s on my ticket. What’s this say?”
    Tess took a look. “You’re headed to Esperanza—that’s apparently what the eight means—on bus thirteen, which leaves here at four-ten.”
    “What the hell? I’m supposed to be on a bus to Guayaquil so I can fly from there to the Galápagos.”
    Her dream trip. “You may not get it straightened out quickly.” She nodded toward the growing line at the ticket counter. “I thought my bus was headed to Tulcán until I got kicked off and was told to speak to the ticket agent.” She was about to tell him about the dead man, to blab about what had happened, but changed her mind. “I figure I’ll be lucky to get out of here before midnight.”
    “Maybe the line moves faster than we think. Listen, could you translate what’s good on that menu up there? By the way, I’m Ian Ritter, from Minneapolis.”
    What? George Clooney traveling incognito? “Tess Livingston, Miami.”
    When they shook hands, his touch electrified her, unnerved her, and it definitely wasn’t his resemblance to Clooney. It was as if they had been lovers in the distant past and she couldn’t remember. Clearly absurd. He was not the sort of man she would forget.
    She had been involved with her Bureau partner, Dan, for the last two years and they had discussed moving in together. Tess had resisted it. She loved her privacy, her space. At the moment, she could barely remember Dan Hernandez’s face. She