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 Inked Armor

Clipped Wings - 2

Helena Hunting

Kato, this one’s for you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Brooks, you really are solidly solid.

Micki, Tatiana, and the rest of my S&S team, it’s been a whirlwind, but an awesome one. Thank you!

Alex, Anne, and Kris, big hugs for helping me tame the beast. I’m so fortunate to know all of you.

Filets, you make me proud to be one of you.

Enn, you’re the woman and you’re made of awesome.

Deb, you are the most amazing person. If not for you, I never would have started on this crazy journey in the first place.

Thank you to my friends and family who have been such staunch supporters through this entire process, from inception to publication and all the steps in between.

To those of you who have been on this journey with me from the very beginning until now, I am indebted to you. Thank you for believing in my words.

1

TENLEY

At 6:23 in the morning, the front door opened downstairs and the security system let out a chirp, signaling Trey’s arrival. I held my breath as I listened for the sound of the code being punched in, then a warning beep, followed by Trey’s irate curse.

Last night I’d changed the security code for the seventh time in as many days. I started doing it after I woke up to him standing over my bed, screaming bloody murder about the tattoo on my back. Verbal abuse from my almost brother-in-law was not a good way to wake up. Since he’d thwarted my attempts to have the lock changed, I made the alarm system the bane of his existence.

Trey strung together creative new phrases describing exactly what he thought of me; he knew the alarm would start shrieking at any moment. I reached for my iPhone, jammed in the earbuds, and scrolled to the playlist I’d created for this freak show. Hard rock filled my ears as the alarm went into full panic mode.

Before long he started pounding on my door.

Nabbing the remote from my night table, I turned on the surround sound hooked up to the flat-screen and blasted techno beats, then went into my bathroom to shower. Trey hated techno.

The pounding had ended by the time I’d showered and dressed. With practiced stealth, I silently turned the dead bolt on my bedroom door. Opening it a crack, I peeked out. No Trey, but that didn’t mean he was gone. He’d waited for hours before; his persistence knew no bounds.

Just outside the door was a pile of papers and a pen for me to sign over the property. He’d shown up each morning without fail, but in the past week his tactics had changed slightly. Occasionally he left the papers and ambushed me later in the day or the evening. The past couple of days, he’d gone back to waiting me out.

My response never changed. I always tore up the papers and watched them scatter like fat snowflakes on the floor. Their destruction had become a ritual I enjoyed.

I was about to shred the ones left for me this morning when I noticed they weren’t the usual documents. The stack was thinner. I leafed through the pages, frowning as I absorbed the content. The back page held my sloppy signature. Based on what I was reading, I’d signed over power of attorney to Trey.