Three the Hard Way (7 page)

A moment later, they moved under the waistband of Ian’s long johns, and he sucked in a harsh breath as they snaked lower, along his ass.

“You’re going all the way with this?” he murmured to Tag over his shoulder, without breaking Justice’s gaze. In response, Tag’s hands slid forward, under his balls, his strong hands running along his cock, between his legs, and yes, he was going to go there . . .

“Are you fucking kidding me, Tag?” Justice asked. “You’re using this as an excuse to feel up your former lover? The one who fucked you over—in more ways than one.”

“Would you rather check him?” Tag antagonized. “Were you having fun with the enemy?” And yeah, really not a good idea for Tag to be pissed when his hands were on Ian’s cock. Talk about Ian’s life in Tag’s hands . . .

Justice’s gaze snapped up to meet Tag’s. “I’m trained for this.”

Tag laughed bitterly. “For feeling up men?”

“No, that’s Ian’s job,” Justice said calmly, and Ian winced internally. Not because he wasn’t right, because of course he was, and Ian had never been ashamed of what he did, but hell, he was too used to being the nameless one. The one you could talk about like he was a piece of meat and it didn’t matter. They didn’t even need him here for this.

“Let go, Taggart,” he growled, and Tag complied quickly. He jerked his jeans back up and moved out of the way. Glanced at the fridge because he could really use a beer right now, and Tag was never without half a dozen longnecks.

“Right, Justice—wouldn’t want to get in the way of your job as a Big Bad ACRO agent. You know, the job you left me for.”

Justice pushed Ian out of the way, and he gladly moved. Swiped a beer from the fridge. These men had their own battle to fight, and Ian would just try to make sure they didn’t kill each other.

Or at least, that Tag stayed alive. Justice? Well, he had good hands, but . . .

“The job you ran from like a coward.” Justice’s voice had deepened, and his body shook like he was ready to implode. “The job that you didn’t want to take because you’ve always been goddamned motherfucking selfish.”

With that, he lunged toward Tag.

Tag wheeled away from Justice’s attack, but he still caught a glancing blow to the jaw. Jesus, Justice was just as bullheaded as he’d always been. Hell, maybe he was even worse now. ACRO had taken a strong-willed kid and turned him into an immovable rock of a man.

“
You
left me!” He slammed the side of his fist into the cabin wall hard enough to make Ian look up from pretending to be fascinated by the beer he was nursing on the couch. “We could have told ACRO to fuck off and gone somewhere together. Somewhere where no one is a freak with special powers. We could have been normal and happy, like we were in college.”

“I wasn’t happy,” Justice said softly.

Tag stared at him. “Liar.”

But even as he said it, he realized Justice was telling the truth. Worse, some small part of him had always known Justice wasn’t happy at college. He’d denied it at the time, but there’d been a lingering doubt that had spurred him to make sure Justice was well sexed and taken care of, all in hopes that someday Justice wouldn’t leave him for ACRO. He’d sensed his discontentment but only on a level he’d not admitted even to himself.

“I was happy with
you
,” Justice said. “But not with our life. I needed more.”

“You needed
ACRO
,” Tag snarled. “I lost
everything
that day. I lost my family. My home. You.” He jabbed his finger at Justice. “And then you took off and left me to deal with the aftermath alone. It was real fucking nice that you handled the funeral arrangements and sale of the properties through an ACRO attorney.”

Tag glanced over at Ian, whose interest was now fully engaged as he watched them, his feet kicked up on the wooden crate that doubled as a coffee table. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his fly was unbuttoned. He might appear to be one laid-back son of a bitch, but behind those heavy lids, sharp eyes were cataloging everything, and under that firm, tan skin, his body would be coiled and ready for anything.

“You fucking selfish shit.” Justice stepped closer to him, his fists clenched at his sides. “I handled everything from a distance because
you
told me to get the hell out of your life. Do you think I didn’t lose as much as you did that day? Do you think it was easy to leave you? I begged you to go with me. I fucking got down on my hands and knees and offered you anything you wanted, including my soul, if you’d just join me, and instead, you told me how I was betraying you and our mothers’ memories.” His tone had degenerated to a serrated growl so full of rage that Tag could practically feel it burn his skin. “How
dare
you talk about betraying them. If you’d listened to me when we graduated from high school, if we’d left
then
for ACRO instead of trying to hide our powers and play at being normal college students, our moms might still be alive. ACRO would have welcomed them too, and they’d have been safe from Itor. They’re dead because of
you
, Tag. Their deaths are on you, and—”

With a roar, Tag laid out Justice with a right hook that dropped the other man to the floor. Justice’s face was hard as hell, and pain screamed through his hand, but he didn’t give a flying fuck. All he knew was that the wounds that had just been opened were too overwhelming to deal with.

Eyes stinging, hand hurting, and his heart cracked wide-open, he grabbed his parka and gloves and stormed out of the cabin and into the frozen wilderness to cool off.

Fuck Justice. Fuck ACRO. And while he was tossing fucks around, fuck Ian. Tag should grab his snowmobile and get out of here now.

Problem was, he could run for the rest of his life, but he would never outrun Justice’s words.
They’re dead because of you, Tag.

Four years of denying exactly that was bearing down on him with the force of the earlier avalanche. Four years of hiding from the truth in the isolation of Alaska or in the anonymity of the Florida Keys—before Itor had gotten ahold of him, anyway. But even Itor had given him an excuse to pretend that he wasn’t responsible for their mothers’ deaths. He’d been busy being tortured or threatened or forced to kill. He hadn’t had the time or energy to relive the past and remember how, if he’d only joined ACRO instead of going to college to live a normal life, his mother, and Justice’s mother, would still be alive.

So yeah, as snow stung his face and wind froze his eyes, he felt the crush of guilt he’d held off for so long. But unlike the earlier avalanche, this
was
going to bury him.

Well, that had been a hell of a show.

Ian drained half of his beer as he watched Justice peel himself off the floor. The ACRO agent swiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, muffling the litany of curses that fell from his swelling lips.

Lips Tag had kissed. A lot. As recently as an hour ago.

“That was pretty harsh, man, blaming Taggart like that.”

Justice snarled. “Fuck you.”

Ian shrugged. “Just saying. I’ll bet he already blames himself for your mothers’ deaths as much as you blame him.”

And wasn’t that interesting? Tag had told Ian that his mother was dead, but he’d said it’d happened in a car wreck with Justice’s mom. But then, Ian had believed Justice was a normal dude, and Tag couldn’t have just come out and said, “Hey, this evil agency called Itor killed my mom and Justice’s mom, and then he ran off to ACRO.”

Nope, on the rare occasions where Tag had talked about his past, he’d said Justice had run off to join the military.

Ian would have preferred military. ACRO was populated with assholes. Like Justice.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t the truth.” Justice glanced at the door, as if expecting Tag to come back at any moment, but if Justice knew Tag at all—and Ian sure as fuck did after only six months with Tag, so there was no way Justice didn’t—he’d know that the guy was, right now, plotting to run far and run fast. “And stay out of it, asshole. It’s none of your goddamned business.”

“My ass, it’s none of my business. I picked up the pieces of him you left behind. For the first time in years, he was happy.”

Justice snagged a beer from the fridge, and despite really not liking the jerk, Ian had to admit that he had a fine ass. “That’s rich coming from the guy who seduced him as part of a
job
, and then betrayed him to the same agency that killed his mother.”

Touché. But this moron didn’t know jack shit about the whole story. “It started out that way, I’ll admit. But it didn’t end that way, asshole. I loved him. I tried to stop Itor from taking him, but they did it before I could warn him.” When Justice just snorted, Ian went in for the low blow. He wasn’t above hitting someone where it hurt. “Besides, I only got him kidnapped. You accused him of killing your mothers.”

Justice glared, a shamed red flush spreading over his cheeks. “I’m not going after him, if that’s what you’re trying to guilt me into doing.”

For Tag’s sake, Ian had given Justice the chance to do the right thing. But if Justice’s ego was getting in the way, that wasn’t Ian’s problem.

“Then I will.” Ian stood and fisted Justice’s ridiculous Iron Man sweatshirt. “Because here’s the deal. When all of this is over, I plan to be the one leaving with him. And I won’t let anyone hurt him again.”

Tag was really fucking glad that it was twenty below out because the cold froze his tears before they could fall. Not that he was crying. His eyes were watering from the sting of the icy air. Big difference.

Son of a fucking bitch!

He heard his words echo through the north Alaskan mountains and realized he’d voiced his thoughts in a shout that, with his luck, was probably going to cause another avalanche.

He looked around in the growing afternoon darkness, happy that the wave of snow that’d broken off the mountain had, for the most part, missed them. The back of the house had been buried under tons of ice, but thanks to the cabin’s space-age construction, it didn’t appear to have taken any damage. The generator shelter had fared well, although he’d still have to dig out his stores of gasoline. He’d also have to reset most of his traps, but that would mean going back inside for supplies, and that wasn’t happening.

He tromped through the snow to the shed where his snowmobile was stored. Thank God the building had been protected by the house. The flow had knocked the small building off-kilter, but hopefully the snowmobile hadn’t been damaged. If he took off now, he could make it to the nearest town with gas before the bars shut down.

And what good would that do? Itor would still come after him, and he’d just die drunk and alone in the snow.

But shit, he was dying inside that cabin too.

He wedged the shed door open and went inside, mainly to get out of the wind. The storm was on its way, and it was threatening to be a ballbuster. Which meant hours upon hours of being stuck in a one-bedroom cabin with the two men he hated most in the world.

The two men he’d once loved most in the world.

Fuck.

On the upside, if they couldn’t get out, Itor couldn’t get in.