Three the Hard Way Read Online Free PDF Page B

great.
    He snarled, “Who the hell is this, Tag?”
    “Who the fuck are you ?” the broad man demanded of Justice, who waited for Tag to say something, to make demands of his own about why this random man was bursting in uninvited.
    Justice turned to Tag for a quick second, noting that Tag was still staring at the intruder while he shoved to his feet. He was zipped up but not buttoned, and between that and his torn flannel shirt hanging open on his sweat-coated chest, it was all pretty much announcing I just got blown . And then he suddenly snapped to. “Ian, what the fuck are you doing here?”
    “Saving your ass,” Ian answered, and Justice noted that Ian’s tone was much gentler than the one he’d used with him.
    Oh, no fucking way, Ian . “His ass isn’t your concern.”
    Snorting, Ian clicked out of his snowshoes, and Tag chose that moment to grab a log from the stack next to the wood stove, and throw it at Ian’s head.
    Ian caught it in a motion that was so fast it blurred.
    “Ah fuck. Excedo,” Justice muttered. Excedosapiens were among the most versatile of the special agents, with a dominance of either super speed or a super strength, and sometimes mixed with other gifts as well. Even super speed or super strength didn’t make them invulnerable, though. Justice wasn’t Excedo strong, but he’d learned to hold his own in practice with them. He’d learned ways around their speed and strength.
    Especially if they had metal anywhere on—or in —their bodies.
    Ian gave a smug smile . . . until Tag punched him, catching him in a cross hook to the jaw, yelling, “You son of a bitch. You fucking bastard !” and following up with a knee to the gut and an elbow to the back of Ian’s pale-blond head, and for a moment, Justice thought the Ian asshole was going down.
    But a split-second later, Ian snarled, “Motherfucker,” through the blood coating his teeth, and tackled Tag, pinning him to the floor. Justice moved closer, weapon still trained at Ian’s head.
    “He’s Itor,” Tag managed. “He was a honey trap. He’s the reason they captured me.”
    Tag had been with Itor? What the fuck?
    Guess it explained why ACRO now, though. Check. “You both have some goddamned explaining to do.”
    “I don’t answer to you,” Ian growled. “Don’t even know who the fuck you are.”
    “You will,” Justice promised Ian—who was still holding Tag down—at the same time the floor shook beneath their feet. In the not-so-distant distance, a loud rumble started, growing louder with each passing second.
    “What the fuck?” Ian and Justice asked simultaneously.
    “Let me up! Let me up!” Tag yelled urgently, and Ian did. As Justice watched, Tag went around, opening hidden panels in the log walls and pushing buttons. It sounded like a part of the house was . . . shifting. And then there was a boom and then . . .
    And then the rumble sounded like a freight train, ready to blow right through the middle of the house.
    They all instinctively moved to the center of the cabin—and to each other—their backs touching as they formed a triangle, staring out, waiting for the invisible enemy.
    “Avalanche,” Tag whispered.
    “There goes my fucking snowmobile,” Justice bitched.
    “It was gone before this,” Ian assured him, and Justice narrowed his eyes at the pleasantly assholish way the guy admitted, “It was in my way when I drove mine in, so it met an untimely end.”
    “Fucker.” He turned to face Ian, but Tag put an arm between them.
    “Could you argue later?” Tag implored.
    Justice threw his hands up. “You mean, after the avalanche kills us?”
    “We’ll be fine.” Taggart made an encompassing gesture. “I bought this cabin from a prepper who designed doomsday shelters for the government. It can take an avalanche.” He glared at Ian. “But clearly, I need a new lock.”
    “No,” Ian drawled, “you need to use the existing lock.”
    Justice chose to focus on other matters. “You bought