Three the Hard Way Page 4

  And they were trapped. Together. With Justice.

  Yeah, someone certainly had a sense of humor.

  Taggart had fucking ruined him. Broken through every single defense he’d built up over the years, and when Itor took him, Ian hadn’t known what the hell to do with himself. All he could think of was to find Tag, to explain. Try to get him out of Itor. But after ACRO’s attack, Itor’s main buildings were dust . . .

  He’d had no way of knowing if Tag was dead or alive, and that’d slayed him. The only saving grace was that during better times, Tag had shared enough about the cabin “in bumfuck Alaska” to give him a starting point of where to look. He’d also shared his feelings for Justice, about how his love and anger and hatred for the man were all twisted and gnarled together . . . although he’d left out the bits about ACRO and Justice having some sort of yet-to-be-determined special ability.

  It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that during Tag’s time of need he’d call Justice and not Ian.

  Ian had betrayed him. Sold him into the slavery of Itor, even though he’d tried his best to convince them that Taggart wasn’t the best candidate for their purposes. He’d told his handler, “He doesn’t have the makeup for what you want him to do.” And despite the fact that he’d fallen for Tag and hadn’t wanted to see the evil empire anywhere near him, he hadn’t been lying.

  Itor hadn’t cared, not then . . . and not now. It was one of the main reasons they’d sent him to retrieve Taggart again.

  Tiny round emergency lights recessed into the walls flickered to life, lifting the darkness enough to move around.

  “Please tell me you’ve got an underground tunnel or powered heaters or something,” he asked Tag as he kicked out of his boots and wondered if he’d look like an idiot if he left on his snow pants and parka. How did people live in this godforsaken frozen wilderness? His face was still numb.

  Justice looked at Tag like he was praying the man would say yes to Ian’s question. Instead, Tag rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve got both of those, plus a spaceship to fly us up, up, and away.” He finished by muttering, “Assholes,” as Ian spotted an indoor bathroom.

  Okay, well, that was something.

  The rumbling eased, and when it finally stopped, Tag strode over to the fireplace, swiped his fingers over a stone midway up the chimney, and a panel slid open. With a few flips of switches, the outside monitors came on. Two of them, anyway.

  Ian was pretty damned impressed with how prepared Tag and his cabin both were. Calm, cool, and collected in the face of a natural disaster. Not so much when facing his past, though, but Ian couldn’t exactly blame him.

  “Looks like a couple of the cameras are casualties,” Tag said. “But the good news is that the avalanche only sideswiped us.” He hit a few more switches around the room, and the metal shutters on the windows slid open. The ones in the front were clear, but snow completely obscured the windows in the rear of the house.

  “I need to check the damage outside,” Tag said, then rounded on Ian. “But first, you gonna tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

  He gestured at Justice. “You wanna tell me what he’s doing here?”

  Glaring at Ian, Justice took a possessive step toward Tag, all hackles raised and ready for a fight. “He called me, dickwad.”

  “And it’s something I shouldn’t have done,” Tag snapped. Ian smirked, but he didn’t have time to get cocky because, in an instant, Tag was in his face again. “Did you bring Itor? Are they waiting for your signal to attack?”

  “I’m on the run from them too, Tag.”

  Tag snorted. “You think I’m going to believe anything you say? You’re a Seducer. You’re trained to lie.”

  “He’s a fucking Excedo and Seducer?” Justice’s eyes were wide, a healthy dose of respect and a little edge of holy motherfucker in his tone. “Jesus Christ, Tag. How could you be so stupid?”

  “He’s not stupid,” Ian growled, not willing to let the man who’d wrecked Tag do any more damage. “I’m just really goddamned good at my job.”

  “Yeah.” Tag’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “You should be so proud.”

  Ouch. “I’m sorry—”

  “Fuck sorry!” Tag yelled. “I spent a year in hell because of you. Do you have any idea what Itor did to me? Do you know what they made me do?”

  Ian knew some of it, had done his best to check up on Taggart when he could, but ultimately, as a mercenary and not an actual Itor employee, Ian wasn’t high on the chain of command, and access to information had been scarce at best. Not to mention the fact that his variety of jobs meant he was rarely even on the same continent as Tag at any given time.

  “I tried to help,” he said. “I swear, I didn’t want that for you. That’s why I’m here. I thought you were dead after the ACRO attack. Itor is starting to pick up the pieces, and when they learned you were alive, they came to me. Told me to locate you. I used their resources to throw them off the track—I couldn’t let them know I’d known the entire time where you’d be. I planned other routes so they’d find those and I could keep your locale safe. And I intend to.”

  “By coming here and letting Itor follow,” Justice added.

  Ian ignored him. “Tag, I only came here to warn you. To get you someplace safe.”

  “Fuck this,” Justice said. “He’s lying, and he probably led Itor to the doorstep.” He raised the pistol, leveling it at Ian’s chest. “Let’s put his carcass out for the wolves.”

  So much rage and hatred burned in Tag’s eyes that, for a moment, Ian was sure he was a dead man. How could Tag trust Justice but not him? Granted, Ian had lied to Tag for six months, but he’d also told the truth. He’d fallen in love with him, and that had never been a lie. Justice, on the other hand, had trashed not only their love, but over twenty years of history between them.

  No doubt Justice had his own side of the story, but Ian didn’t give a shit about it.

  Ian held his breath as Tag looked between him and Justice. With his super speed, he could probably take down Justice before he fired his weapon, but Ian would rather the situation didn’t come to that. He was fast, but not fast enough to outrun a bullet if things went south.

  An eternity later, Tag shook his head. “I don’t know what to believe. Justice, put away the gun. If Ian’s telling the truth, he can help.” As Justice complied, Tag kicked up the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace to reveal a hidden door. “There’s a storm coming. I’m going to check out the supplies in the cellar. You two secret agency pukes can take a hike, for all I care.”

  Justice shot forward and grabbed Tag’s arm, and Ian prepared to deck the fucker. “You can’t honestly believe this asshole didn’t bring Itor.”

  “I told you,” Tag said, as he jerked out of Justice’s grip, “I don’t know what to believe.”

  Justice snorted in disgust. “You always were gullible.”

  Tag just looked sad, and Ian’s heart sank when Tag murmured, “Yeah, I was.”

  Justice watched Tag disappear down the basement stairs. He slammed the hatch door behind him too, leaving no doubt that he wanted to be left the fuck alone.

  He glanced over at Ian. Guess you can’t always get what you want. “This is going to be a long-assed storm.”

  “Saw it on the radar on my way in,” Ian offered as he looked out the window. “Between the avalanche and the blizzard, we’ve bought some time before anyone can move out there.”

  “Anyone? Or Itor?” Justice asked, purposefully murdering any pretense that there could be a second of peace between them.

  “Both,” Ian shot back. “I have no idea who’s after you.”

  “After me?”

  “I know—hard to believe that anyone would want to kill a ray of sunshine like yourself, but I’m betting it’s not out of the norm.”

  Justice leveled his pistol at Ian’s broad chest again, unsure why he’d bothered to put the weapon away when Tag told him to. He’d seen a lot of Seducers in his time with ACRO�
��all the agencies like ACRO and Itor employed them—men and women well versed in the art of sex and communication, brainwashing and information gathering.

  A man’s defenses are down when he’s fucking—no two ways around it, was Devlin’s favorite saying, and sometimes he didn’t mean it in a bad way. Not when he was lecturing Seducers. Ian definitely would’ve had a thriving career as one of them—he was about Justice’s height, broad and built, handsome in a way that screamed sexy. Although Justice wouldn’t have gotten gay or bi off him, that was the point: Seducers were tri-sexual—they’d try anything. And in Justice’s eyes, that wasn’t a compliment.

  “How long’ve you been a Seducer?”

  “How long have you been a judgmental prick?” Ian smiled pleasantly.

  “Long time now,” Justice said easily. “So I’m guessing, long enough that maybe your dick’s ready to fall off?”

  “You’re worried about my dick now, Justice? That’s sweet of you.”

  Jesus, he didn’t want to think about Ian’s dick or Ian’s dick anywhere near Tag’s dick or ass or mouth, where it’d no doubt been constantly when they were together. Tag’s sexual appetites ran toward the insatiable side, something that he’d definitely welcomed.

  Justice took a breath and started. “I’m worried about Tag, same as always. And I can’t believe he trusted you. That he still trusts you.” So much for controlling the snarl in his voice. Because really, what was supposed to happen here? He and Ian running hand in hand through the snow, becoming BFFs?

  No, they were fighting over Tag, and it was winner take all. And Ian was a dangerous man, a dangerous agent, thanks to his Excedo status . . .

  Justice kept his weapon aimed directly at Ian’s heart, even as Ian squared off, like he thought he could take Justice down before he pulled the trigger—and as Excedo, maybe he could. Hell, maybe that’s why Tag had left them in here, hoping they’d kill each other. Or at least one of them. Wouldn’t that be convenient, so Tag didn’t have to make a decision.

  Justice’s stomach clenched. Before this, he’d known only that he had to convince Tag to come with him to ACRO. Now it was a matter of choosing between him or this asshole Seducer freak. And judging by the way Tag had looked at Ian, the way Ian had looked back . . . Well fuck, Devlin wasn’t going to be happy about these developments at all. Maybe there was another way around this.

  “I think you should go. Run away, fast and furious through the snow like a good little Excedo. If you gave a shit about Tag, you’d do that for him.”

  “I’m sure you’d love for that to happen, Justice, but forget it. Because you fucked him up, big time.”

  “Right. This is all my fault. I was the one who pretended to love him but really just fucked him right into Itor’s hands.” Justice forced himself not to see the sudden fresh burst of pain haunt Ian’s expression. No, he ignored it, twisted the knife a little deeper. “But you’ve supposedly left Itor, right? Yet, conveniently, you’re still letting them feed you intel about where Tag is. And I’m sure you’re not going to say a word to Itor about any of this.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then strip.”

  “What the fuck for?”

  “Let’s see if you’re wired up or sporting transmitters.”

  Ian smirked a little. He’d already taken off his hat and gloves and dropped them carelessly on the floor, and now he unzipped his parka and let it fall off his shoulders. There was a thud when it hit the ground—weapons and a sat phone, most likely—and Justice was about to grab for the jacket when Ian peeled off his snow pants and followed up by stripping away two layers of shirts, leaving him only in jeans. Justice forgot what he’d been planning to do just seconds earlier, completely fucking distracted, his heart slamming into his chest at the perfectly chiseled body typical of Excedos.

  It’s been too long for you . . . should’ve gotten something before you came here. The angry orgasm with Tag hadn’t been enough, not when the sex had been more about power than getting off.

  And hell, Justice had asked for Ian to basically get naked. Ian, who was smirking even harder, like he knew what Justice was thinking.

  He’s probably Speedy Gonzales in bed too. Maybe Tag’d forgotten what fucking a guy who doesn’t need to speed through the act was like.

  Yeah, and he’d keep telling himself that until he believed it.

  “Come on, Justice—come closer and check me out.” Ian’s words were a taunt. He began to unbutton his jeans and made like he was about to slide them off his hips.

  “You really left Itor?” Justice asked, trying to distract him.

  Ian paused. “Yes.”

  He sounded sure, and he looked Justice right in the eyes. But still, something about the initial hesitation of Ian’s answer made Justice ask, “You worked exclusively for Itor?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “The guy standing in front of you with the gun, asshole.”

  Ian shrugged a bare, well-muscled shoulder, like none of that mattered. “Why don’t you ask your best friend? The one you care so much about.”

  “Figured you’d like this one-sided story business,” Justice muttered. “Maybe you two are perfect for one another. Except for one small fact—he hates you, maybe more than he does me right now.”

  “So you’re ahead by what, a blowjob?”

  “It’s something.” Justice pointed in his face. “It’s enough to piss you off, and that’s enough to thrill the fuck out of me.”

  Yeah, Ian would give Justice a thrill. He shoved his jeans midway down his calves, until Justice asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Ian looked up at Justice. The habit of going commando had been ingrained in him, so the concession he’d made to come to this eighth ring of freezing hell was to wear silk long johns under his jeans. They fit him like a second skin and made the asshole with the big mouth stop talking for a moment.

  Men were so easy. Women, it took way more effort to seduce them. They needed sweet talk and compliments. Men? They just needed to see a hard cock, and it was like a beacon to them.

  Justice’s tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth. The guy was handsome too, in that all-American boyish charm, save-the-world kind of way. Justice really did believe he could save the world—Ian saw that clearly now.

  He also saw that he and Justice could never play on the same team—he doubted there were any gray areas where the guy was concerned. Whereas he’d lived his whole life in the gray.

  And why the hell had he suddenly become concerned with the actual enemy, anyway?

  He licked the corner of his mouth with his tongue, a light, subtle move as he held out his arms. “I thought you were going to check me over? Feel me for chips and wires.”

  He kicked out of his jeans and prepared to do the same with his long johns, convinced that Captain America would back off.

  Justice did no such thing. And Ian had been wrong before, had miscalculated before, but not like this. Because he was already taking a big chance here. Before he’d left to hunt down Tag, Itor had implanted a chip in the flesh below his shoulder blade, and it was thin and malleable enough not to be discovered under intense scrutiny. But that didn’t mean ACRO hadn’t come up with ways to detect it.

  Still, Ian stood his ground while Justice advanced. Justice held his gun out to the side, but Ian locked gazes with him, and that gaze never broke, even as Justice ran his palm over Ian’s chest.

  Justice’s hand was cool, his touch somehow perfect. Ian fought not to show he was affected, but the long johns hid nothing, and fuck it all, most agents thought Seducers were sluts anyway. Best that Justice underestimate him.

  Ian’s skin goose bumped when Justice’s hands ran up his sides. He’d never make it if Justice actually asked him to pull down his long johns and he had no doubt that Justice would.

  “Turn around,” Justice told him, his voice low, with just a hint of arousal.

  “You’re kidding, right? Let you stand behind me holding a gun?”


  “I’ll take over from here.” Tag’s voice rose up from behind Ian.

  “What?” Justice asked. “You don’t want me touching him, Tag?” But his voice wasn’t exactly a taunt—there was something in it that made Ian almost growl.

  “I don’t trust you not to kill him,” Tag shot back.

  Ian was done with their bickering one-upmanship. Now he wanted to get laid. Or do the laying. “Waiting to get naked,” he told them both. “Could one of you just get this over with before I freeze my balls off?”

  “Doesn’t look like you’re cold,” Justice leered, but Ian knew it was mainly to piss the hell out of Tag.

  And it worked, since Tag elbowed Justice out of the way. “I’m doing this.”

  “I already checked there,” Justice pointed out when Tag ran his hand along Ian’s arms. Justice’s hand was still on Ian’s shoulder and Ian was semisandwiched between the two men who were about to fuck or kill each other.

  In Ian’s experience, it was always a crapshoot.

  Justice looked at him and smirked. At his back, Tag’s hands swept along his shoulders, his touch firm and detached, the very opposite of how Tag used to touch him. He held his breath for a second as Tag’s fingers skimmed the implant. The thing wasn’t detectable to the touch, was even smaller than the microchips used to identify lost pets. But still, Ian didn’t breathe again until Tag’s hands dropped to his ribs and spine.

  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 . . .