He waved to Hernán from his seat, and Hernán strolled confidently over to the table, sat down, nodded to the waitress, and pointed to Jaeger’s longneck.
“¿Qué tal?” Hernán asked.
“Remember when I told you that I was searching for a friend? I’ve had no luck tracing him, but I believe that his mother could be in Spain, so I am searching for her. It’s just very hard, even in the size of your country, and I’m used to working with more sophisticated equipment.”
“Sí. Here we like life simpler. But the Internet has nothing on word of mouth. Who is this woman? I can ask around for you. I have friends in many towns who travel to various clinics, and one never knows when new friends are made.”
Jaeger didn’t want to get his hopes up, but Hernán could be right. Word of mouth in the smaller Spanish provinces was far better than the Internet. Spanish gossip traveled at lightning speed.
“Very well. Her name is Graciela Rincón O’Riley. Other than that, I don’t know much else about her, except she’s Mexican, so she will speak Spanish.”
“A Mexican accent is very distinguishable, so her dialect may be easier to track than her name.”
“Perfect. And one more thing. She loves to cook, so maybe something in the restaurant business.”
“Do not worry, my friend. I will ask around for you. Just give me a few days. In the meantime let’s enjoy our meal and take care of our transaction. You are about to be a home owner.” They clinked their bottles of beer. The waitress delivered their food to the table. The cold soup blended well with the platter of sizzling chorizo. Jaeger ripped off a piece of bread from the freshly baked loaf and dipped it into the crimson-colored sauce.
“I will never tire of the food in this beautiful corner of the world.” They ate in silence, enjoying the spicy flavors until every bit was wiped clean.
Two beers later and all the food gone, Jaeger and Hernán made the short walk to the bank. Jaeger withdrew the needed funds, and they sauntered to the courthouse to file the official documents and deed for the bungalow. Key in hand, Jaeger bid farewell to his friend, who promised to call within a few days whether he found information or not.
The first thing Jaeger did once they parted was head to the motel and check out. He hired a car and driver, placed his meager belongings in the car, drove to the market to get a few groceries to tide him over, and then was dropped at his new residence. He paid the driver and admired his new home. The outside of the bungalow was a light peach, and a wrought iron fence and gate surrounded a beautifully maintained garden of vibrantly colored flowers swaying in the coastal breeze.
The one-story dwelling had lots of windows to let in the Spanish sun and frame a killer view of the beach. All the windows were open, and a light breeze blew the sheer linen curtains. Jaeger was grateful to have bought the house already furnished, with everything included. He’d worry about adding any touches of his own later. There were three bedrooms, and Jaeger planned to turn the third smaller room into an office—although an office for what, he wasn’t sure.
He’d thought about getting into private security. Since he arrived in town, he had noticed many of the hotels relied on the neighbors to report anything suspicious, and he just bet that hotel owners would be chomping at the bit for a state-of-the-art security system to keep their well-paying guests safe and secure. That was definitely right up his alley.
Jaeger rubbed the faint scar on his left wrist. The flesh was less gnarled and severe than before, but he could still see the broken sword. A sense of dread and despair hit him when he thought about what the scar signified. But maybe Moriel had seen something good in him, and if Wren was still alive, it could be his second chance in the same lifetime. From the little Jaeger remembered, Moriel was not one to give second chances.
TWO DAYS after speaking with Hernán, the phone call came. The afternoon sun sat high in the crystal-clear, azure sky. Jaeger sat on his front porch, rocking the afternoon away. He’d made a few contacts with the local hoteliers, and each and every one of them was interested in a security-and-surveillance system for their establishment. Jaeger was checking prices for equipment online when his cell chimed.
“Hello.”
“Jaeger, amigo, I may have a lead on the woman you seek.”
Jaeger practically tossed the laptop on the concrete porch, he jumped so unexpectedly from his chair.
“You found the woman I seek?” He needed all his questions answered right away.
“There is a restaurant, newly open, named El Cazador in El Puerto de Santa Maria, about an hour and a half east of us. The restaurant has been open for about five-six months. I know the name is not of the woman, but I have been informed by a reliable friend that the owner is not from Spain.”
“Oh my fucking lord.” It couldn’t be that coincidental. Jaeger’s Spanish improved every day. El Cazador meant “the hunter” in Spanish. Coincidental that Jaeger is German for “hunter?” What are the odds of a restaurant owned by a woman not from Spain?
“This name means something to you?”
“Yes, it does. Do you have an address? Maybe a phone number?”
“I will text the address to you right now. Be careful, my friend. Sometimes the answers to the questions we seek are not always the answers we want.”
It didn’t matter to Jaeger. He needed to head to El Puerto de Santa Maria. Instead of procuring a driver, Jaeger went to the luxury hotel and rented a car. His wrist itched and burned. He was on the right track.
He programmed the address to the restaurant and drove along the highway for more than an hour. The trip seemed endless. The scenery was brilliantly beautiful, but his nerves were too keyed up to enjoy the journey. He hoped the owner was who he thought. If it was Graciela Rincón, Jaeger still wasn’t sure if he would find the information he sought.
Less than two hours after he left his village, the GPS took him off the highway and through smaller streets until he reached his destination. Santa Maria was old-world beautiful. The Moorish buildings were magnificent, built of stone, and dated back to the thirteenth century. Passing the large bull statue in the Plaza de Toros, Jaeger continued his drive until he reached El Cazador. He found parking along a side street that contained a few cafés with outside seating and a tattoo parlor.
Even in a beautiful town such as Santa Maria, the tattooist shall prevail. Jaeger chuckled. He walked past the window and noticed the beautifully crafted graphics designed to show a variety of tattoos. One in particular caught his eye. A sword. The design appeared to be a replica of a twelfth-century sword with a massive slit through the blade and the bottom half of the blade held on by a sliver. The graphic was spectacular and very familiar.
Jaeger looked at his wrist. The similarity between his scar and the graphic was remarkable. Could he be on the right track and the graphic meant more than simply a tattoo? The wizard. El Mago. The name of the parlor.
Bypassing the entrance Jaeger strolled directly to El Cazador. The café bustled with patrons, and Jaeger placed his name with the young hostess and waited for a table—inside or out. Music chimed in the background, and the hustle of workers and patrons mixed in the air. The environment was light and airy and the crowd a mixture of young and old. Finally seated at a table for one, Jaeger ordered a sangria and a plate of tapas and his meal of paella.
He listened to the languages of the many people—Spanish, English, German all mixed together—enjoying the evening in the beautiful town. When his paella was delivered and his sangria refilled, Jaeger made a point to tell the waiter to give his compliments to the chef.
“Sí, señor. El chef estará muy contento.”
“Fuck, the chef is a man.”
“¿Perdóname?” Jaeger hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until the waiter questioned him.
“Speak English?”
“Yes,” the waiter answered.
“You said the chef was a man. I thought a woman owned the restaurant.”
“Yes, la señora owns El Cazador, but
her son is the chef. He very good cook, no?”
Jaeger didn’t want the man to worry the food wasn’t good. “No. No, the food is excellent. I’m just looking for a friend and thought she might be here, but maybe I could give my compliments to the chef myself, if it’s not too much bother?”
“I will ask el jefe. Let him know someone wishes to compliment him.” The nervous young waiter refilled Jaeger’s water and sangria and walked away. Very polite.
Jaeger soon took his drink outside to the patio area to take in the sights as patrons came and went from El Cazador. The establishment was very busy, but he wasn’t about to move until he met the man. He was convinced it was Wren. Dusk fell on the little town, and people milled around, walking the streets looking in shops, chatting, and holding hands. Lover after lover walked the cobblestone sidewalks. El Cazador finally slowed down, and Jaeger asked the hostess if he could speak to the chef. She politely informed him the chef left for his home to take a short siesta but would return in about three hours.
Jaeger expressed his displeasure and exited the premises. As he rounded the corner to his vehicle, he was drawn to the tattoo parlor and decided to walk in and inquire about the sword graphic.
“Good evening. May I help you? Are you in the market for a tattoo?” The man spoke perfect English without any accent. If Jaeger didn’t know better, he’d swear the man was from the Midwest of the United States.
“Hello. I’d like to find out about the sword.”
“American?” the man asked.
Jaeger nodded.
“Me too. By way of Iowa. Came for a vacation, and the rest….” The man waved his arm around the room. “Peter.”
Jaeger shook his hand, which was callused from the hours spent with an air gun.
“The sword? I have a man who is very talented with graphics on the computer, and he usually designs the tattoos for me. You’d like the sword done? I tell you this, he won’t let that one be done on anyone, but he’ll design a variation for you.”
Jaeger bared his scarred wrist to Peter. The scar matched the sword in the window.
“Please, I need to find him.”
Astonished at the similarities, Peter nodded his head. “I don’t normally do this, but this isn’t the States, and people here think very differently.” Peter grabbed a pad and pen, wrote an address, and handed it back to Jaeger.
“I hope what you seek is there.” Jaeger smiled at the word choice and left the building.
Following the map Peter drew along with the address, Jaeger walked the two blocks to his destination. If it was Wren, then Jaeger would finally be able to make amends and tell him how he truly felt. With his soul bare and his heart heavy, Jaeger needed Wren’s smile and warmth to bring light back into his life.
Jaeger opened the small black gate and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. A diminutive woman with jet black hair streaked with silver opened the door.
“¿Si? ¿Cómo le puedo ayudar?”
“Graciela Rincón?”
“There is no one here by that name.” With his foot Jaeger stopped her from closing the door.
He didn’t want to frighten the woman, but desperation rode high in his soul. “Please, I am not the enemy, nor do I want to scare you. I only want to know about Wren. Please.” Jaeger was not beyond begging. “My name is Jaeger Tripp. Former US Marshal assigned to protect your son prior to the trial. Please. I read he died, but something in the back of my mind won’t allow me to let it go—the feeling he’s still alive.”
The woman raised her hand to her mouth, and tears formed in her piercing green eyes. “Dios mío.” She gasped. “Mi hijo, mi hijo. Él pensó que moriste. Casi se rindió. Please wait here.”
Graciela closed the door and left Jaeger to stand on the front stoop and contemplate his fate. The next few minutes could be his destiny. If Wren walked through the doorway, things could drastically change for the better. Maybe Moriel was wrong, and people could change and make a difference in the world. He’d forgiven Wren and his family long before, just not to his face. When they last saw each other, they left things unsaid—no sentiments, no pretty words of undying love. But given the chance, Jaeger would change all that. Wren O’Riley was his one, and fuck if anyone would tell him different or take him away.
THE FRONT door opened a sliver, drawing Jaeger’s attention to the forest-green eyes that peered through the screen and the smile, the brilliant white teeth, the hair that was a little longer than the last time. Soft waves cascaded down to the top of his shoulders. Still thin, but with a runner’s body, the love of Jaeger’s life looked the same.
“Wren.” Jaeger’s voice caught in his throat.
“Jaeger? Jaeger. I don’t understand. They told me… they told me you died in the mountains.” Wren opened the door, stepped aside, and allowed Jaeger to enter the living room.
Jaeger reached for Wren’s face and caressed his dark stubble. He trailed his fingers along Wren’s cheeks and gently wiped the tears that slowly leaked from his luminescent eyes. “I’m sorry. I just have to touch you.” Jaeger continued to caress as Wren leaned into his palm.
A tingle traveled down Jaeger’s spine when Wren turned his face and kissed his scarred wrist.
“What are you doing here? Is it safe? How did you find me?” Wren withdrew his hand and guided Jaeger to the sofa. They sat with their thighs pressed together and stared at each other. Jaeger carded his hands through Wren’s shaggy hair, which was still as soft as he remembered.
“A very long story which led me here to Santa Maria, and one I will explain. And then I saw the graphic in the tattoo window, and I knew. Your design, right?”
“Yes. It was my way to immortalize you and remember. I have it now on my body. And no one else will have the same one.”
Wren pulled up his shirt sleeve to expose his bicep. The broken sword was forever inked into the man Jaeger loved. Loved. Yes. That was how Jaeger felt about Wren. From hate to love and every emotional stop in between, Jaeger loved Wren O’Riley.
Jaeger leaned in, kissed the marked flesh, and drew goose pimples along the skin. He kissed every inch of the tattoo and caressed it with his cheek.
“I felt like my life was over when you didn’t return in the woods. I was so alone and scared. But I knew I needed to make it back to the city and testify. To finish what I not only started, but what you had helped me finish.”
“We have so much catching up to do. I’m never letting you go, Wren O’Riley. That’s still your name?”
“Wren Cazador. I didn’t want to completely lose myself, so I kept my first name. But our last name had to go. My mother and I changed our name to Cazador when we received a fresh start. Cazador. Hunter, to honor the memory of the man I loved. This is so surreal. I can’t believe you’re here with me in Spain, of all places.”
“Please, come home with me tonight, and I promise to explain it all.”
“I don’t know. I have obligations. I am the chef at the restaurant. I’m so confused.
“Wait. Was that you wanting to see me? I slipped out the back because sometimes tourists get a tad bit clingy. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. Everything is happening so fast, and I know we’re both overwhelmed.” Jaeger pulled Wren into an embrace as he continued. “I just want to be able to hold you and know that you’re real.”
“Mijo. Go.” Graciela entered the room—an air of aristocracy in a small package. It was easy to see where Wren got his stunning looks.
Startled, Jaeger released Wren and faced his mother.
Graciela placed her small hand in Jaeger’s, drew him into a tight embrace, and whispered, “My son has waited many months for you.”
Turning to Wren she continued. “I will call Flor to cook for the next few days. Go with your young man, and when you return, we will work it all out. Now is the time for lovers.”
EPILOGUE
WREN PACKED a small travel bag for his stay at Jaeger’s new home. They made much of the s
ilent ride back to Jaeger’s bungalow, both too stunned to speak. When they arrived in the middle of the night, they undressed and stumbled into bed. Entwined in Wren’s arms, Jaeger slept the sleep of the dead for the first time in ages.
A rustling startled him, and he opened his eyes. Wren lay upon his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath a balm to Jaeger’s spirit. Jaeger scanned the room and spotted him in the corner chair, still in his tattered blue robe. Moriel the Wizard.
“What do you want, old man?” Jaeger whispered to not wake Wren.
“Fear not, Jaeger of Germania. Your lover will not wake whilst I am here. It is you I seek.”
“Why did I not die?” Jaeger asked and hoped to finally receive a straight answer from the wizard.
“You were a most difficult subject, Jaeger. Yet, in you I saw something, even as you passed through each lifetime. But in this life, something happened. Your rage lessened, yet you did not give yourself completely. I cheered for you, yet you disappointed me. Alas you caught me in good spirits, and I decided to allow you to earn your place on this earth with your soulmate. What came after that was solely up to you. I only placed you on your course by transporting you to this continent.”
“It was you, then. That’s how I got to Spain. You knew Wren was already here.”
“Yes, I did. And I went against everything I have stood for over the centuries. I am an old man, Jaeger, centuries old. And yet I feel myself getting tired. I have lived through blight, famine, and countless wars, all in the name of riches and fame. But know I am still the purveyor of evil. A man who still holds others in the palm of his hand. The one who so readily took a ragtag group of men and cursed them to do my bidding. A special group. My Order of the Black Knights. You will see me no more, Jaeger of Germania. I sever all ties.”
With a wave of his wand and a brilliant flash of light, the wizard disappeared. Wren hadn’t moved through their entire conversation. His tanned body was wrapped around Jaeger, comforting and loving.
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