Three the Hard Way

by Sydney Croft

  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.”

  Tag looked confused. “Chip? We searched you.”

  “It’s called a microchip, Tag. Without a detector, most people would never find it without my help.” Ian stared into Tag’s eyes, knowing this was most likely his best—and possibly last—shot to make Tag trust him again. “The P-128S chip is practically undetectable if it’s not transmitting.”

  “Even to my magnetic ability?” Tag asked, and Ian’s first instinct was to lie, but lies were what had gotten them into this situation in the first place. “No. If you’d turned on your gift while you were searching me, you’d probably have found it.”

  “Fuck.” Tag looked up at the ceiling as if there were a portal to the past up there. “So what’s it do, exactly, this microchip?”

  “It sends out a homing signal letting Itor know exactly where I am, and that I’m most likely in trouble.” Tag narrowed his eyes. “It’s not activated at the moment.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I watched Itor set the timer. It’s a fail-safe. I’ve got seventy-six hours left. If I don’t contact them within that seventy-six hours, it’ll go live.” He paused. “At that point, Itor’s going to either think I’m in trouble . . . or that I’ve deserted them.”

  Tag sighed. “So how do you get rid of it?”

  “I don’t. If I try to cut it out . . .” He took a deep breath. “If it’s exposed to air, it’ll self-destruct. Taking me, and everyone within a twenty-foot radius, with it.”

  Taggart’s eyes widened with surprise, and then a true hint of concern. “Jesus, Ian. Is that even possible?”

  “Ah . . . yeah. Hello, it’s Itor, home of the most powerful evil geniuses in the world.” Ian hesitated, and then blurted, “But there’s a way you can help me get rid of it.”

  “Me?”

  “I wouldn’t ask you . . . I didn’t come here for you to do this. But this, showing my belly, my weakness . . . this is the only way I can truly get you to trust me. If the homing signal activates, I’ll run, lead Itor away from you and give you a chance to get out of here.” He slid out of his parka and shivered as he lifted his T-shirt up over his back to expose his shoulder blade. “Do the honors?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Ian jerked his chin at the heated wall. “Do that to it. Except hotter. Melt it.”

&nbs
p; Tag took a quick step back, the color draining from his face. “The fuck? Hell no.”

  “Please, Taggart.”

  Ian held his breath through a long moment of silence until Tag said, “I can’t. Heating a metal wall or bending a fork is one thing. Channeling my powers into a human . . .” He shuddered, and Ian wondered what Itor had done to him.

  “You can do it,” Ian urged. “Use the powers Itor gave you to give them a big ‘fuck you.’”

  Tag’s entire body trembled. “They tried to make me destroy someone’s pacemaker. They twisted and perverted my powers, and they wanted me to murder—”

  “Tag.” Ian inhaled a ragged breath, his guilt at having put Tag in that kind of position tearing him up. “I’m not Itor, and this won’t kill me. It’ll help me. It’ll help all of us.”

  Tag’s throat worked on a swallow. “What makes you think I won’t draw it out of your body and let it blow you up?”

  “A, it’ll kill you too, and I doubt you want to be dead. B, if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.” Ian reached over his shoulder and tapped his back. “I know you can do this.”

  “You really trust me?”

  “With my life. Obviously.” Ian turned around and faced the metal wall that was rapidly losing its heated glow.

  Tag hesitated, then removed one glove. “Where is it?”

  “Use your power to find it.”

  Tag cursed under his breath, and then murmured, “Ian,” before touching his bare skin. “This is going to fucking hurt. A lot.”

  “That’s all right. I deserve it. It’s about time you got to cause me pain . . . although being without you nearly killed me anyway,” Ian admitted.

  Tag rested his forehead on Ian’s shoulder. And then Ian felt Tag’s lips press against his shoulder blade, several kisses. At first, he told himself that Tag was only doing it to find the chip, but no—Tag’s finger sat directly over it, while the kisses rained down around it.

  And then the pain began. It didn’t start slowly; it instantly became a searing, shooting slice of heat directly at the source. He closed his eyes and grabbed for the nearest object, a snowmobile.

  “Concentrate on my kisses, Ian,” Tag murmured. He continued mouthing Ian behind his ear, nipping his earlobe, and Ian did as he asked.

  Tag was saving his life. This was the only way he could prove to Tag that he wanted to do the same. But hell . . .

  He was aware still of Tag’s voice, conscious of the fact that he was sinking to his knees because of the pain, the electricity shooting through his body. His head throbbed, his heart beat like it wanted out of his chest . . . and right now, he didn’t blame it a bit. He wanted out.

  “Tag, please, I can’t take this . . .”

  “You can. You have to. You promised me,” Tag urged, without any judgment in his voice. Or maybe that’s what Ian told himself in order to cope with the rest of the ordeal.

  After who knew how long, Ian came to, kneeling, his hands clutching the grips on the snowmobile on front of him. His fingers were cramped from being wrapped around them for a long time. His head throbbed. And he felt the heat from Tag’s body behind him as he pressed his chest to Ian’s back, reached to loosen Ian’s grip, and helped him ease back against him.

  “I guess it worked,” he croaked, since he was still alive, despite actually feeling a bit singed.

  Tag grunted. “Yeah. It worked.”

  Ian sagged mentally with relief. “Now we’re both wanted men,” he whispered. “I’ll protect the fuck out of you, Tag. I tried to tell Itor you weren’t the right fit. You have to believe me.”

  Tag turned Ian so they were facing each other. “I— Fuck, I’d be an idiot to believe you again after what you did.”

  Ian’s heart leaped to his throat. “And?”

  “I guess I’m an idiot.” Tag seized him roughly by the biceps and yanked them both to their feet before pulling him in for a hard, punishing kiss.

  Finally, oh, God, finally. Overcome by relief, familiarity, hell, he could admit, it, love, he let Tag kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him.

  Tag’s tongue licked the roof of his mouth, and he shifted closer to rub his cock against Ian’s. Ian groaned into his mouth. The residual heat from the metal, combined with the heat from Tag’s body, was making him sweat. His hands went to Tag’s hips, under his parka, pulling him closer.

  Tag’s arms wound around him, tight bands, and even though Ian knew they could never hold him in place, he liked to pretend. Tag had always been, hands down, one of the strongest men he’d ever met.

  “Please,” Tag groaned into his mouth, and Ian knew exactly what he wanted. He slid a hand down the back of Tag’s pants, cupped an ass cheek, and squeezed hard. “Please, Ian . . . you know what I want.”

  Tag gripped his shoulders fiercely as he teased, rubbing Tag’s perineum but not coming close to what Tag needed. Finally, he said, “Lube. We need lube,” after he broke the kiss, but Tag shook his head.

  “Make me come without it. You always could.”

  “Still can,” Ian promised, his hand inching toward Tag’s hole.

  “Really, Tag?” Justice’s voice was cool as it floated up from behind Ian, and Ian and Tag froze. “I know sleeping with the enemy sounds hot as a concept, but you’ve already been beyond burned—you’ve been thrown into the fire by him. And you escaped. Barely. And you’re so willing to throw it all away again for a quick lay?”

  Yeah, it wasn’t that Justice hadn’t been expecting this, but actually seeing Tag and Ian wrapped around each other—with Tag clearly the aggressor—twisted white hot in Justice’s gut.

  Tag broke away from Ian, his cheeks burning. “Shut up, Justice.”

  “Why? ” Justice demanded. “Because it’s the truth? Because hearing it makes you think with your big head instead of your little one?” He laughed bitterly. “Ian’s playing you.”

  “He’s not,” Tag protested. “Not this time.”

  “But you know that he’s a merc for hire, yes? One of the most dangerous too?” Justice was making this shit up as he went along, but judging by Tag’s nonpoker face, he’d hit gold. “There’s a bounty out on his head.”

  “From ACRO?”

  “From ACRO, yes. I’m sure we’re not the only ones. He’s probably back working with Itor just so they’ll provide him protection.”

  “That’s not true,” Ian said tightly.

  “So what’s true, Ian?” Justice demanded. “You’re a merc Seducer, right?” Ian glanced at Tag before nodding. “This is really fucking perfect. Tag, move the fuck away from him.”

  “You’re not in charge here.”

  “You called me in. So, technically, I am in charge here, and the second I have a contact signal again, I’ll call ACRO for backup, and they’ll be here before anyone else. We can do this a lot of ways, but you’re not going to be happy with any of them. You only seem to be happy with this one.” He pointed at Ian. “And soon, he’ll be in jail.”

  “Ah, I see.” Ian smirked. ”You’re going to round me up and take me in?”

  Justice stared at him. “You’re pretty happy for a guy who’s going to be jailed for treason—or worse.” He spoke with equal cheerfulness, because he was going to bring in the Seducer with the bounty on his head and get some goddamned money out of the deal. Maybe a promotion.

  What about getting the guy? Because if Tag liked Ian better than him, then Justice definitely wasn’t getting the guy at all. And isn’t that what he really wanted?

  Tag held up his hands—a silent show of surrender? Or maybe he just wanted peace. Good luck with that. “I know what he did. I know what happened to me—trust me, I’ll never be able to erase it from my brain. But he came here to find me.”

  Incredulous, Justice stared. “He came here to take you back to Itor, Tag. Jesus.”

  “That’s not my intention,” Ian ground out.

  “Right. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Justice shook his head in disgust. “Guess you’ve made y
our decision. Hope you have a great life together.”

  He turned and walked out of the shed, and kept walking, trudging through the snow, even though Tag was calling to him, because fuck this. ACRO might want both of them, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—do this himself. Let Devlin send Ender to collect these two assholes. Or they could run off with each other and fuck themselves to death.

  He heard a crack—heard Tag shout a warning—and he turned, distracted. Caught his foot in one of Tag’s motherfucking traps. Pain screamed through his leg, blurring his vision enough that he could barely make out Ian and Tag coming toward him.

  The crack sounded again, and he bent to free himself . . . and then everything went black.

  “Justice!”

  Taggart battled the wind and deep snow as he struggled to get to Justice, his pocketknife in hand and open, and he didn’t even remember digging it from his pocket. But Ian got to Justice first, had the massive tree branch off his unconscious form before Tag got there to release the snare.

  Fear snaked through him, joining a massive dump of adrenaline that made his thighs tremble as he crouched next to Justice.

  “He’s breathing,” Ian said as he put two fingers to Justice’s pulse. “Strong and steady. Let’s get him inside once he’s loose.”

  The wire snare had cut into Justice’s calf, and he was bleeding into the snow, but once Tag sliced the rope securing the snare to the tree, the pressure released, and he was able to ease Justice’s leg from the trap.

  The dumbass. Jesus. If Justice hadn’t freaked out and run off in a childlike snit, he would have seen the notch in the tree, the signal they’d devised as children to indicate a nearby trap. If he’d listened to Tag’s warning, he wouldn’t be injured. If he’d have just . . . Fuck it. There was time to yell at him later. Right now he and Ian had to get Justice out of the cold.

  Together, they hauled Justice to the cabin and laid him on the bed. Never taking his eyes off Justice, Ian shrugged out of his coat. “I’m going to need whatever medical supplies you have—”

  Tag was halfway to his basement before Ian could finish his sentence. He grabbed two red duffels marked with medical symbols from the supplies at the rear of the basement, hauled them up, and dumped them on the bedroom floor.