Latitude Zero by Diana Renn

Author:Diana Renn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

34

THE RUIZ family greeted me with hugs and besos. My host sister, Amparo, gave me a huge white stuffed bear with a red heart necklace, in case I missed my family and needed something to hug. Andreas gave me Ecuadorian magazines “for practicing in Spanish.” I thanked him, trying to ignore the fact that Juan Carlos was on the cover of almost all of them, with teasers for stories about la tragedia ciclista. Hugo carried my suitcase and backpack to the room I would share with Amparo. Lucia served me a late dinner: steak with eggs cooked over it, and a heaping plate of papas fritas. Peludo the poodle covered my arms and face with sloppy licks.

I was beyond tired. And sleep should have come easily. For the moment anyway, I was safe. The Ruiz house was tucked away in a maze of hilly streets, all lined with elegant homes—fresh white paint, red tile roofs, gracious arched brown doorways. The homes, including the Ruiz casa, were also heavily barricaded: ringed by cement walls iced with glass shards.

The Ruiz house was further guarded by a man in a booth at the gate. He wore a beret, fatigues, and a semiautomatic weapon slung across his chest. After Santiago had pulled up at the curb, we’d had to pass by that booth. As the guard tipped his beret and murmured, “Buenas noches, señorita,” I’d actually felt grateful for that gun. Especially now that I was thinking Darwin and those guys were involved with international drug trafficking—and with Juan Carlos’s murder.

Not so long ago, when I couldn’t sleep, I used to lie in my bed back home and let my thoughts drift to Jake. I’d replay our good times—like biking out to Cabot Pond on hot summer nights and swimming to the far edge to kiss—and more—beneath a willow tree, whose gracious branches offered a private room. Sometimes, when things weren’t good with Jake, my thoughts would drift to Juan Carlos instead. To our halting conversations in Spanish, to the slow spread of his smile, to the way he said to me once, almost wistfully, “Jake, he is lucky to have a girlfriend like you.” I’d replayed that memory so much I’d almost worn it out.

But now, lying between crisp pink sheets in Amparo’s spare bed, my thoughts veered away from both of them . . . to Santiago. He had risen to the occasion, driving that “getahead vehicle” like a pro—and he didn’t even know me! He’d also given me his cell number before he left. “If you need anything, call,” he said to me before he left. “And I will see you on Monday?”

“Monday?”

“At Vuelta. I’m working for my dad at the headquarters, part-time, for my summer job.”

“You’re working at Vuelta, too? Doing what?”

“Updating their website. So if you need to have another high-speed chase or something, I am your guy. Chao!” He waved—no attempt at a beso this time, as he rubbed his nose and winked.

“Chao,” I replied, remembering, with a pang, that chao was the last word Juan Carlos and I had exchanged.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.