Toronto, Canada, 2006. A few months after the worst year of the Iraq war. Gabriel Navarro splits his time between his job slinging ink at the Atlantis Ink tattoo parlor, and working on his master’s degree in fine art. Gabe is twenty-two, sure of his beliefs and his artistic integrity, and na?ve enough to think he’ll never have to compromise. And then one night Jake MacLean walks into the shop and changes everything. Jake Maclean is twenty-eight and a veteran American Army pilot. He's been staying with his ex-pat sister in Toronto while he tries to get his life in order. The problem is, he can't. After his disastrous final mission in Iraq, he's overcome with anger and survivor’s guilt, trapped in a losing battle to atone for a failure he’s sure can never be forgiven. Left without hope, he decides to have his memory of the mission tattooed on his back, with the condemning words: God Will Judge Me. He doesn't expect to fall for the tattoo artist. Gabe falls just as quickly and deeply for Jake, though Jake's reluctance to talk about what happened frustrates and worries him. Gabe knows Jake isn't doing well, but accepting Jake’s claims that he's "fine" is far easier than dealing with the frightening truth. But soon it’s horribly clear Jake can’t control his panic attacks or flashes of violence, and he's getting worse. If Gabe can’t help him face his demons, Jake is headed for a crash -- and there’s every chance he’ll take Gabriel down with him.

Black Hawk Tattoo

“You’re tattoo’s healing nicely,” Gabe said, swallowing because his voice was a little thick. “Have you been putting the aftercare ointment stuff on it?”


“Sometimes.” Jake looked sheepish again. “I keep forgetting unless it itches.”


“That’s okay,” Gabe said. “As long as you remember to do it every so often it’ll probably be fine. Some people never put anything on their tattoos at all.”


“You’re welcome.” The healing outline of the helicopter Gabe had inked a couple of days ago did look really good—there was no trace of seepage or infection, and just a small bit of red around the tattoo where the skin was still getting over the insult. But Gabe’s eyes kept dropping to the curving scar on Jake’s right side, and lower, to the latticework of ragged lines above each of his knees. One was a little higher than the other. Like his side, they were thick and faded red; another indelible memory of damage, stabbed permanently into Jake’s skin.


Chapter 44