Three the Hard Way Read online

  Ian wished he couldn’t fucking hear. He didn’t need Devlin to tell him what he already knew, that he wasn’t good for anyone or anything. From a mercenary family who would sell their own mother for a buck.

  He wanted to punch something. To run. Because the humiliation ran hot over him. How long could Tag and Justice actually believe in him when they had an authority like Devlin telling them differently?

  You knew it would go like this.

  And even so, he’d held on to a small sliver of hope, the thing that had been practically beaten out of him. Devlin’s words still burned, no matter how expected.

  Ian had been on the outside for so long, it was hard to imagine being in anyone’s trusted inner circle. Hell, he hadn’t even had a trusted inner circle of his own until these two men had barreled into his life and fucked him up good.

  He’d never been happier. It was the only reason he’d allow himself to be miserable for the rest of his days, however long they’d be. There were enough bounties on his head for him to know it wouldn’t take much longer.

  Maybe he should let ACRO arrest him. He could be in jail with Tag—and Justice—close. Or maybe he should just let them be together, the way they were probably meant to be.

  Or maybe he needed to find a way to prove himself to Devlin, whatever it took.

  When Justice hung up with Devlin, he immediately called out, “Ian, I know you fucking heard everything.”

  Busted. Ian yanked out the earphones, which had seemed too heavy against his ears. God, he needed to stop feeling like crap. Maybe he was coming down with the flu. Some sort of bumfuck Alaska moose flu. “How did you know that?”

  “You might be a brilliant Seducer, but you suck at spying.” Justice rubbed Tag’s cheek with his knuckles, then urged him into the living room with Ian. Ian knew that Tag was as upset as he was—okay, more so, because that hadn’t been a best first conversation with Devlin.

  “So what now?” Tag asked Justice.

  “What now is you both get your shit together,” Justice ordered.

  In anticipation of his order, Ian was already shoving supplies into his rucksack. Any other time, the inherent command in Justice’s voice would’ve had him naked and on his knees.

  But not today. Not now, especially. Not when the men he’d fast been considering ‘his’ were in danger. Because of him. “Justice—”

  “No. We’re not discussing this now. You’re coming with us. Devlin will put both you and Tag in a safe location while we take down Itor—”

  “I’m fighting too, dammit,” Taggart growled.

  Justice ignored him for the moment. “Let’s get our supplies together. Prepare for the worst, okay? In case Itor somehow gets here faster.”

  “Agreed.” Ian was up, helping Justice lay out the ammo they had. Taggart went to the closet full of guns and ammo and began checking supplies there. And there was silence—tense as hell silence—for ten minutes, until Ian couldn’t fake it any longer.

  “Justice . . . Taggart . . . what if I can’t go with you to ACRO? What if your boss wants me dead or—” He cut off as Justice appeared suddenly at his side. “You sure you’re not part Excedo?” Ian tried to joke, but Justice had a hand on his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

  Tag was rubbing his shoulders as Justice told him, “Ian, there’s no way we’re letting anything happen to you. We’ll talk to Devlin . . .”

  “And we’ll make him bring you on,” Taggart added. “He just needs to meet you. To see us together.”

  “Well, not like in bed together,” Justice joked, and it eased some of the tension currently threatening to squeeze Ian’s brain out of his ears.

  Ian broke a smile. “I know you’ll both try. I believe you. I trust you.”

  “And you don’t trust easily,” Tag said quietly. “Ian, if Devlin won’t accept you . . .” Tag trailed off, and Justice picked up, “Then we’ll figure out something.”

  “We’re smart,” Taggart added. “Justice and I know a little something about living off the grid.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to,” Ian said fiercely.

  “No one ever said life was fair,” Justice pointed out. “Besides, we’ve got you now. And we’ve found each other. It’s a trade I’d willingly make.”

  Taggart reached out to touch both men’s shoulders. “Me too.”

  Ian nodded, too overcome by emotion to trust his words.

  Justice, Ian, and Taggart spent the next four hours preparing for a battle. Damned good thing Tag was set up for an apocalypse. They had enough weapons and medical supplies to outfit an army, but Justice really hoped they would never have to break into the two-year supply of MREs.

  Because yuck.

  A beep on his cell phone alerted him to Dev’s arrival, and he quickly hit the deactivation switches on Tag’s traps and alarms.

  Now it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose.

  Tag looked tense as hell, like he was ready to break apart—or break someone—and neither one was a great option. “What about Ian?”

  “What about me?” Ian was in the doorway, having just showered. He was pulling on a shirt, his hair spiky and still a bit wet, and his feet were bare.

  Justice pointed toward the door, and Ian raised his brows. “ACRO?”

  Tag walked toward him, stood next to him protectively, and drew his weapon. “I won’t let them touch you.”

  “Tag, Jesus, let’s not start out that way.” Justice went to let in Dev and the team he’d brought—guys he typically didn’t work with—before they broke the door down. ACRO could be subtle if necessary, but Devlin didn’t believe in subtle much.

  He opened it when Devlin was almost there, flanked by men in Arctic camo and stark-white combat gear that blended in with the snow. As soon as they came in, Justice reset the alarms, and Devlin nodded approvingly.

  “I’ve got two dozen agents in position outside the lethal trap zone,” Dev said as he took in the small space. Ender, another Excedo with super speed, shoved his ski mask on top of his head and stepped up next to Dev. “Where’s Ian?”

  Justice looked around to the spot where Ian had just been standing.

  Tag gestured to the bedroom. “He’s waiting in there.”

  Devlin motioned to two of his men, and Taggart stepped in front of them when they tried to head that way. “Where the hell are you two going?”

  “Taggart, I’m guessing?” Devlin asked. Tag nodded, and Devlin’s expression softened slightly. “Listen, I’m taking him into custody.”

  “He wants to fight,” Tag insisted.

  “I’m sure he does, but until I know what he’s really all about, he’s no help to us. To me.” Devlin looked to Justice to be the voice of reason.

  “What are you going to do with him?” Justice asked.

  “Make sure he doesn’t run.”

  “He won’t, Devlin.”

  “I need to make sure that you are safe. You and my men are my priority. And if you both fight me, Taggart’s going to be in the cellar with Ian.” Fuck, the guy was scarier when he was quiet-pissed.

  “It’s fine, Taggart.” Ian had come to the doorway. He glanced at Justice and nodded, and then said, “I understand, Devlin. I’m not going to make any trouble. I don’t want either of these men hurt on my account.” He gestured to the trap door in the living room floor. “The basement’s secure. I can wait there.”

  With that, Ian moved to the center of the hallway and the ACRO men flanked him, ushering him through the living room and into the basement.

  Dev stared at Ian, but his words were for Justice and Tag. “You’re both putting a great deal of faith in a man who no doubt led Itor here.”

  Tag jumped right in. “No, he didn’t. Not intentionally. He had a chip implant that would’ve activated a homing signal if I hadn’t destroyed it.” Devlin glanced at Ender and then back at Justice, and Tag spoke again, this time through gritted teeth. “What? I know that look, even if I don’t know you at all.”

 
; Dev calmly removed his stocking cap, revealing a messy mop of brown hair. “Do you know what the device is called? What model of chip?”

  “P-128S,” Tag said in a clipped voice. “Why?”

  Dev’s expression turned grim, and Justice’s gut did a slow roll. “That chip is experimental,” he said. “Itor uses it in a few different ways. It tracks when it activates, and it explodes if someone tries to take out it. They can also detonate it remotely. It’s a nasty weapon. How did you destroy it?”

  “I melted it,” Tag said.

  Devlin gave a slow nod that, to an outsider, would appear neutral. But Justice had seen a flash of . . . something . . . in Dev’s dark eyes. Something that said he knew more than he was saying. “So Ian let you destroy it for him? After you discovered it?”

  Justice felt his face flush. “We didn’t discover it,” he muttered.

  “Ian told us about it.” Tag folded his arms across his chest as if daring Devlin to challenge him on their version of events. “He didn’t have to, but he did. And he’s the one who insisted I destroy it.”

  “He didn’t want the chip to activate and lead Itor here,” Justice added. “They didn’t find out about Tag’s cabin from him.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “He’s not the same guy he might’ve been, Devlin. I actually don’t think he was ever that guy. His father? He sounds like a real piece of work,” Justice admitted.

  And then Tag broke in. “This is bullshit. Come on, Devlin—if I hadn’t given you my coordinates, could you and your best and brightest at ACRO have found this place?”

  Devlin stared, and Justice watched Tag fight the urge to squirm. “With enough time and the right people doing the digging, yeah, we could.”

  “Well, there you go. If you can, Itor can.”

  “You know we’re here to help you, right? You might try showing a little gratitude.”

  Tag clenched his teeth, and Justice prayed he’d play nice. The goal here was to keep Ian safe, and Tag wouldn’t risk blowing that.

  “You’re right,” he said, grudgingly. “I’m grateful. And I know you have to protect your people. Like I have to protect mine.”

  Devlin inclined his head. “Then we’re on the same page. Just different sides of it.”

  “Great,” Tag said. “Now, let’s talk about getting Ian out of the basement—”

  Abruptly, Dev looked up, his brown eyes going glassy, the way Justice had seen it happen when his psychic ability kicked in. “No time. They’re here,” he said. “Itor’s on the doorstep.”

  Justice and Tag rushed with Dev into the night, where the icy air bitch-slapped them all. Itor was crazy. Who wanted to fight in this shit?

  All around them, the forest was alive with motion as ACRO agents slipped into battle-ready positions. Ignoring the ache in his injured leg, Justice stayed on Dev’s heels, with Tag pulling up the rear, but before they’d made it ten yards through the deep snow, Tag brushed past Justice and grabbed Dev’s parka to swing him around.

  “I need to go to Ian,” he said. “We can’t leave him alone—”

  “We need you more than Ian does,” Dev said, his voice edged with rare sympathy, especially considering Tag’s blatant belligerence. “You’ll be back with him soon.”

  Tag didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked agitated, his nostrils flaring and his jaw tight, and suddenly, Justice felt like a dolt. Quickly, he pulled Tag aside as Dev barked out some orders to two nearby guys.

  “Is this about fighting?” A blast of wind stung Justice’s eyes, and he slipped on his snow goggles. “Are you going to be able to use your powers? I know how you feel about that.”

  Tag closed his eyes, for a moment, Justice’s heart sank. But when Tag lifted his lids, the determination glinting in those dark eyes erased every bit of Justice’s doubt.

  “I’m going to tear them apart, Justice.” Tag’s deep voice became even lower, smoky, as if it had been dragged from out of the pits of Hell. “They’re going to pay for every drop of pain they caused Ian, me, you, and our mothers.”

  All right, then. Justice almost felt a little sorry for anyone stupid enough to be fighting for Itor.

  Almost.

  Meeting Tag’s angry gaze, Justice gave him a reassuring nod, a silent Let’s do this thing, just the way they’d done when they were kids, play-fighting in the woods near their houses.

  Tag nodded back, and then Ender and two guys Justice only knew from seeing them around ACRO’s massive grounds guided them along the tree line.

  Ender’s voice was grave as he spoke to Devlin. “There are more Itor bastards than we anticipated,” he growled. “They dropped from a fucking cargo plane and are coming in two waves. Second on snowmobiles.”

  They eased behind a huge fallen log propped on a rock face, providing excellent shelter from both the wind and Itor bullets.

  “Justice, Tag,” Dev said. “You two stay with me when the first wave hits. You’re more useful here than out there when the second wave comes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Justice said. Tag ground his teeth, but at least he didn’t call Dev an asshole.

  It was dark out, but the glowing full moon and undulating ribbon of illumination from the aurora borealis provided just enough light to see. Not that Dev needed light—he read situations like this because he was a precog. He’d once explained to Justice that he could actually see what was about to happen, like it was on a TV screen in front of him. So even during the years when Devlin had been blind, he’d been able to guide himself using his second-sight vision—he called it remote viewing—that way.

  Suddenly, the sound of a chopper broke the stillness. Two seconds later, the forest exploded with noise—gunfire, shouts, screams. Justice spotted a figure to the right, went down on one knee, and took the bastard out with three shots, center mass.

  A brilliant explosion and a flash of heat blasted them backward. Justice slammed into something hard behind him . . . a tree? Didn’t matter. The helo above was dropping fucking bombs on them.

  The thing banked hard, and Justice’s gut dropped into his snow boots. The chopper was loaded heavy with missiles.

  And they were aimed at the cabin.

  Well, this wasn’t unexpected at all.

  The two ACRO agents who’d brought Ian into the cellar, where there was no other door or window to the outside, had put him in chains made especially for strong Excedos.

  Which meant he wasn’t getting out of them anytime soon. But even though he probably could’ve run rings around these men, he didn’t.

  He’d suck it the fuck up and be respectful.

  To a point. The ever-present headache was starting to intensify, which meant that his patience was very soon going to be very limited.

  He glanced between the two agents. “Do you have enough men to fight Itor?”

  One of the ACRO agents—a guy named Gus—smirked. “You going to help us fight, Itor-boy?”

  “Go fuck yourself. And I don’t work for Itor.”

  “Anymore, right?” Gus asked. “That’s what they all say.”

  “I’m sure,” Ian muttered.

  And then it got quiet upstairs, the kind of silence that made Ian wary. He stood slowly, not wanting the chains to make noise or to freak out the ACRO agents, and he noticed they’d gone completely still. And all three of them were staring up at the cellar door like they were expecting the end of the world.

  And fuck, Ian hated it that Taggart and Justice were up there. They were capable. He knew that. But his protective nature had kicked into high gear. To not be able to actively help his men . . . “This is the worst part.”

  Gus glanced at him with a frown but didn’t say anything. Then all hell broke loose above them.

  This was a clusterfuck.

  Thick smoke choked the air, the ground shook, and the deafening noises left Justice disoriented and scrambling to stay on his feet. “Tag! The helo!” Somehow he managed to yell despite the fact that his heart was lodged in his throat. />
  “I’ll heat it up!” Tag yelled back from where he was crouched on the ground. He looked up, his eyes focused on the chopper. “Justice, don’t let it gain altitude!”

  Bracing one hand against a tree for support, Justice engaged his magnetic gift. Power skittered over his skin, an electric tingle that began in his fingertips and spread to his toes and scalp. Gaze fixed on the helicopter’s black belly, he pictured himself taking the entire machine in his fist and dragging it toward him.

  The bird pitched hard as the pilot attempted to compensate for the sudden force that was trying to reel it in. A searing, agonizing tugging sensation wrapped around Justice’s rib cage, cutting off his breath and driving him to his knees.

  “I can’t . . . hold it . . . for long.”

  “Hold on, buddy . . . Hold . . . on.” Tag’s voice was strained as he focused on the helo, his body trembling, his panting breaths freezing in the air.

  The helicopter pitched again, but then it rolled, bucking like a bull trying to throw its rider. But the glow of hot metal spreading toward the gas tank was about to end all of that—

  “Take cover!” Tag yelled.

  Justice didn’t hesitate. He hit Tag in a tackle and took him to the snow as the massive boom shattered the air. The ground rumbled, heat scorched them, and bits of debris rained down, punching through the deep snow. Steam rose up from the blackened snow craters, the hiss of hot metal the only sound in the stunned forest.

  A shot rang out, and it was on again.

  Beneath Justice, Tag cursed and spit snow. “I could have hit the ground all by myself, you know,” he muttered.

  “That’s no fun.” He gave Tag a discreet—and hard—pinch on the ass as he pushed off the other man. He didn’t wait around to flirt; Itor agents on snowmobiles were tearing up the forest, some of the riders firing weapons, while others were weapons.

  One hurled a fireball at an ACRO agent who barely avoided being toasted by engaging his super speed, and another was wielding some sort of electrical whips extending from the tips of his fingers.