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.
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
“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.
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
Similar Books
