Three the Hard Way (8 page)

Tucking his hands in his parka pockets, he sank down on the snowmobile’s seat, which was cold even through his flannel-lined jeans.

He checked his watch: 2:30 p.m. Sunset. God, he missed Florida. He’d really thought he could hack Alaska when he’d first moved here after his mom died. But a long-ass season of crab fishing and then a year of living out here alone like a wild mountain man had changed his mind. Justice had always been comfortable with his own company, but Tag was more social, and he’d needed . . . something.

Things had been good in Florida. Awesome compared to the cold isolation of Alaska. He’d had a decent social life that revolved around the bar where he worked, but he hadn’t had a love life. There’d been a few one-night stands, even a couple of month-long flings. But the second things had looked like they might get serious, he backed out of the relationships so fast he left skid marks. He couldn’t risk loving someone again.

Until Ian.

He’d tried to back out, but Ian hadn’t given up. Now he understood why Ian had been so persistent, but at the time, he’d believed Ian had sincerely cared for him. He’d been seduced with patience and pro-football tickets and
Mystery Science Theater 3000
with homemade popcorn on the couch. Ian had seemed to know all of Tag’s favorites. Favorite movies. Favorite books. Favorite food.

And now Tag knew why Ian had known all of that. It had been his
job
to know.

Wind screamed through the trees, and the shed rattled. The door shifted, and Ian stepped inside, cloaked in the last rays of daylight. God, he was good-looking. Short, nearly platinum hair and ice-blue eyes that spoke of strong Nordic genes. Chiseled cheekbones. Perfectly shaped, lying lips.

“It’s fucking cold out.” His breath formed frost around his mouth as he propped a big shoulder against the wall as if he were a good friend just coming out to the deep freeze to chat. “Should have worn gloves. And a hat. And a fucking snowsuit.”

Taggart would have let him freeze, except he was cold too. So as much as he despised using his powers, had even sworn not to use them again, he reached deep into the piece of him he kept locked away and opened himself to his gift. For the span of a heartbeat, he hesitated, knowing that the moment he used his power he’d feel tainted. Evil. But guilt over his mother’s death was already a malevolent sludge in his veins, so really, what difference was this going to make?

He let loose, hating the buzz of energy surging through him as his magnetic ability charged the air. A moment later, the shed’s north side metal wall began to glow like a stove burner, and heat filled the space. Ruthlessly, Tag shut down his power.

“Shit, man,” Ian said softly. “I thought magneto-people could just manipulate metals.”

“That’s all I could do before Itor lab fucks strapped me to a table and shoved a needle into the part of my brain responsible for my ability.” He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets so hard they hurt. “While I was still awake.”

But hey, the tradeoff for the agony was that now he could “manipulate the free electrons in metal to create heat,” according to the Itor scientists who’d performed the procedure and then forced him to test his new talent. The fuckers.

Ian had the good grace to avert his gaze. Thank God he didn’t try to apologize. Tag would’ve beaten him with one of the skis at the back of the shed. Or better yet, the ax at the front of the shed.

“What about Justice?” Ian asked quietly. “What can he do?”

Tag shrugged. “He can draw and repel metal. Bend it with his mind. His ability was always stronger than mine, though.” But where Tag had made an effort to use his power sparingly, Justice had thrown his around like confetti. And if the knives on the counter sliding toward him were any indication, Justice hadn’t quite controlled his tendency to attract metal objects when his emotions ran hot.

“Helluva coincidence that two people with similar abilities grew up together,” Ian pointed out.

“Itor experimented on our mothers while they were pregnant.” He had no idea why he felt the need to bare his soul to the guy who’d done his best to destroy it, but hey, it wasn’t as if he had anything to lose. “They were given identical drugs and treatment, but differences in their genetics gave us slightly different powers, I guess.”

“How’d they get away from Itor?”

“They escaped. Like mother, like son, I guess,” he said bitterly. When Ian said nothing, Tag sighed. “Why did you come out here, anyway?”

“Because you’re running,” Ian said. “It’s what you always do when shit gets real.”

Tag bristled. “I do not.”

One blond eyebrow cocked. “Remember when I invited you to spend the night at my place for the first time? You went AWOL at work and didn’t come back for a week. When you did, you made up excuses not to see me.”

Yeah, okay, he’d done that. They’d been dating for about a month, and he’d been starting to let his guard down. Until that point, he’d been content to see Ian whenever Ian showed up at the bar or called to see if Tag wanted to hang out. But about four weeks in, he’d started to look forward to seeing Ian, and he’d ached when the guy wasn’t around.

Spending the night would have been a huge step, especially since he’d been on the verge of letting things in bed go places he’d only been with Justice.

Clearing his throat as if it would also clear away all those memories, he said, “That’s once.”

Ian looked at him like he was a dumbass. “There was the time when you were sick and I brought you soup. I didn’t hear from you for days afterward.”

Justice had always brought him soup when he was sick in college. Whether it was a hangover or the flu, Justice’d made sure he was comfortable. And yeah, those memories—and others—had often boiled over into his relationship with Ian. He’d only finally let Justice’s hold on him go when Itor grabbed him.

“Fuck you.”

“See? You’re running.” Ian stomped his boot, breaking off chunks of snow. “Bet Justice would say the same thing. You run.”

“So you came out here to point out my flaws? If you’re trying to seduce me, you’d better up your game.” Bitterness welled at the reminder that seducing was Ian’s job, and he couldn’t help but add, “Especially since now I know how you operate.”

Pain flickered in Ian’s eyes, followed immediately by anger. “Is that how Justice got you to suck his cock?” he shot back. “He upped his game?”

Tag shoved to his feet. “Are you trying to get a rise out of me, or do you really want to know? Because if you want to know, here’s the deal. I saw Justice, and I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him or kiss him.” He glared at Ian. “You, I just want to punch.”

Ian snorted, his hot breath turning to vapor in the cold air. “Clearly, since you didn’t have
my
cock in your mouth two minutes after seeing me again.”

Tag ignored that and sent another blast of his metal-heating power into the far wall. “I was glad Justice was here.”

Really glad, considering he’d figured there was a good chance Justice wouldn’t come, and then he’d have been screwed. He’d had Itor on his tail for weeks, and he’d thought that he’d be safe here, but the last time he’d gone to town, the locals had told him someone had been nosing around, asking about him.

His only hope for survival had been Justice.

“You’re saying you were so grateful he came to your rescue that you blew him?”

Okay, now Ian was starting to piss him off. More, anyway. “Yeah. Basically.” Not at all.

Beneath the anger and hurt, despite all the bad blood between them, he’d just been happy to see Justice. And when he’d seen the smoldering heat behind the wall of ice in Justice’s eyes, he’d felt his defenses weaken.

The funny thing was that it wasn’t the heat that had gone straight to his gut. It was the ice. It was the chilling hardness that hadn’t been there four years ago. He could blame ACRO for it—probably would because that was the easy thing to do—but he couldn’t stop feeling as though he
had
been at least partially responsible for putting it there.

Then Justice had backed him against the wall and dragged his warm tongue up his throat, and his defenses had taken another hit. Justice had owned him at that moment, and he’d known it.

Justice had to have known it too.

“Good to know,” Ian said casually, but there was a note of anger in his voice that Tag hadn’t heard before. “Come to Tag’s rescue, and get paid with sex.”

“Takes balls for a Seducer to criticize sex as currency.” Tag struck his mark again, and this time, the hurt remained in Ian’s expression. Good. Bastard deserved it.

“I’m sorry.” There was an emotional hitch in Ian’s voice that Tag had never heard. “It’s just . . .” He swallowed. “I’ve never been jealous before.”

Tag thought his eyes might bug out of his head. “Jealous? You have no right to be jealous.”

Turning suddenly, Ian banged his fist against the side of the building, and the metallic echo bounced around in the frigid air. This was as angry as Tag had ever seen the normally unflappable man. Tag supposed it could be an act, a Seducer game, but what would Ian have to gain from showing a bit of temper?

Ian tested the strength of the metal with his fist again. “No right to be jealous? You think I don’t know that?” Ian wheeled around to face him again. “But what I know and what I feel are two different things, and seeing you with Justice . . . it was like taking a bullet. And you know what the really fucked-up thing about it was? I wanted to kill him, but I knew doing that would hurt you.”

“Yeah, you’re a real stand-up guy, caring for my feelings like that,” Tag muttered, and this time when he saw the pain in Ian’s eyes, he actually felt guilty. The worst part of it was that he wanted to grab Ian by his shoulders, haul him up against him, and kiss away the hurt. Maybe if he did that, his own pain would ease.

Except it wouldn’t. It hadn’t worked with Justice. He’d kissed him. Touched him. Made him come.

And now Tag felt worse than ever.

Somehow, Ian knew. He always did. “Justice shouldn’t have said what he did.”

Tag closed his eyes, but the darkness behind his lids didn’t hide the truth. “Justice was right. It’s my fault our mothers are dead.”

Ian blew out a long breath. “Knowing what you know now, would you have joined ACRO with Justice to protect your parents?”

Swallowing, Tag opened his eyes. “Yeah. I’d have done anything to keep them safe.”

“Then let it go.” Ian’s voice was low, soothing, and Tag found himself drifting toward him, had to force himself to stop. “You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Justice thinks it is. No wonder it was so easy for him to leave me—” He broke off as the horrible truth blindsided him.

Suddenly, Justice leaving Tag all those years ago made sense. Yeah, Justice had always wanted to join ACRO, and maybe he would have eventually, even if Tag’s plan for college and normal jobs and a normal life
had
panned out.

But instead, Itor had found them. Killed their mothers. And it was all Tag’s fault. Of course Justice had wanted to break all ties with the person responsible—ACRO had just given him the means to do it.

Oh, God.
He wanted to throw up.

The guilt over their mothers’ deaths had always haunted Taggart, even if he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but the idea that Justice thought the same, that he’d actually abandoned Tag because of it . . . Jesus. Tag should have known, should have seen it, but somehow, he’d never let himself go there. That would have meant he’d lost Justice for nothing. Every drop of pain he’d experienced would have been laid at his own feet.

I’m not only responsible for the deaths of our mothers, but I’m responsible for Justice leaving me, too
.

“Justice is wrong,” Ian insisted. “And if he doesn’t come around, he’s an idiot.”

“Don’t,” Tag growled. “Justice is a lot of things, but he’s not an idiot.”

Ian sauntered over, halting within reach. Not long ago, Ian couldn’t have been that close without one of them touching the other. “Defending him now, huh?”

Fuck. “No. It’s just . . . Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know anything. And you . . .”

Ian’s hand came up to cup Tag’s cheek, and he suddenly lost the ability to speak.

But that, he supposed, was better than losing his mind.

“And me?” Ian said softly, tracing a finger along Tag’s jawline. Tag jutted his chin, the stubborn thing. It’d been one of the most endearing things about him, the first trait he’d noticed when he’d first made contact with Tag.

“What about you, Ian?”

“You know everything you need to know. In here.” Ian pressed a fist against Tag’s chest, over his heart. “I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t fallen for you.”

Tag drew in a shaky breath, but his next words were firm. Angry. “You sold me out.”

“I did, yes. That was my job.” A job he both loved—for bringing him Tag—and hated, for the betrayal he’d been forced to commit.

Tag’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s to stop you from doing your job again? Why shouldn’t I believe Justice is right—that you’re either planning to drag me back to Itor or leading them here?”

“I’m not dragging you back anywhere,” he promised. “But you do have to take out my chip before it activates.”