Page 5 of Dustin (Thunder Elites Special Ops #4)

(Dustin)

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A child throwing a tantrum?!

This is why I avoid talking about my feelings. It’s so easy for someone to say ‘just get over it’, but when the love is deep, so are the scars.

Someone steals some food from the store and everyone’s more concerned by the act, not the driving force behind the action. They’re not going to change their opinion just by having a conversation. That’s exactly why I see no point in having one with Madison right now.

“I see. Allow me to continue being a child, then. Leave me alone.”

She stares at me, and I watch as that darn bottom lip disappears into her mouth.

Does she realize how distracting it is? I’m trying to be angry, but instead, I’m thinking about her mouth and how good it felt to kiss her.

I miss those days when I could kiss her without permission.

She was mine. But those days are gone, and they're never coming back.

I fall back onto the couch and close my eyes, silently dismissing her. From now on, I will only talk to her when I absolutely have to.

Later, after some room service and a good breakfast, I’m itching to start my mission. I’m glad to see a call coming in from Samuel.

“Yeah?” I ask upon answering his call.

“We’ve got some information on Vierra. He and his wife are one of the most powerful couples in the city.

They’re also linked to the terrorist cell.

It seems Vierra has been supplying them with protection in the city, guns, ammunition, that sort of thing.

He has a lot of power, and it seems he’s using it all for his shady deals. ”

“All right. What’s the plan?”

“Nothing crazy right now. You need to get a tracker on his phone. The ones I’ve created are almost completely undetectable.

If you can do that, we’ll be able to trace his movements and all the information we need.

Including his meeting spot with the terrorists.

The agency will engage as soon as we confirm they’re on the ground in the country. ”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I tell him before hanging up.

I turn to the blonde-haired menace in the room. She’s seated on the bed, poring over her sketchbook, but I know for a fact she was listening in on the conversation.

“What do you know about Vierra?” I ask her.

Madison looks up.

“Besides the fact that he’s a sleazeball?” she questions.

“Yes, besides that. Where does he live?”

She shakes her head.

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t be able to get into his house. It’s one of the most heavily guarded places in Lisbon.”

“Okay then, what about places he goes? Bars, hotels, restaurants….”

She thinks about it for a moment.

“I know he always has lunch at a particular restaurant in the middle of the city. He’s there all the time. I’m not sure what’s special about the place, but they practically close down an entire section when he arrives. I just don’t know if getting close to him there will be possible either.”

“Do you know any other places?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.

“He frequents a few other bars and events, but the restaurant is his most routine jaunt.”

“Okay. The restaurant it is, then.”

I head for my luggage and pull out my gun.

Then the tracking device Sam made and some other things I might need.

Madison doesn’t blink at any of them. Being the daughter of a General in the U.S.

army will do that to you. She’s used to playing with guns.

I’m almost sure she’s a better shot than me, but we’ve never tested that theory because I like my dignity.

“Can I come with you?” she asks when I’m done getting ready.

I snort.

“No way in hell.”

Her face falls.

“Why not?” she asks.

Is she kidding me right now?

“I don’t know, Madison. Because it could get dangerous?”

“You and I both know I’m more than capable of handling myself in a fight.”

“You’re also more than capable of talking out of your ass. Now leave me alone. I’m not taking you anywhere with me, and that’s final.”

Even if I could, I’m not going to. She pissed me off last night.

“Fine. But you do know I have contacts here that can get us into the same parties and the same places Vierra goes. It’ll be easier than just going to a restaurant that’ll be blocked off to the public anyway,” she says softly.

I ignore her. I need to do something. Staying in the room with her is driving me crazy.

“Dustin, I was asked to help you, so allow me to help you,” she says in frustration.

I sigh and move to sit on the bed, although I sit far away from her.

“Fine. Give me a refresher in Portuguese”

She arches an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

She obliges anyway and I mentally file away the translations for later use.

“Be careful, Dustin,” she says softly as I’m about to leave.

“Like you really care,” I reply before exiting the hotel room.

I head for the rented car and drive towards the restaurant. According to Madison, they close most of it down every time the target comes for lunch. But before that, they allow customers without reservations. All I have to do is get in there first. And not leave until Mr. Vierra shows up.

“Boa Tarde,” I greet the waitress, just like Madison taught me.

She smiles at me.

“You’re not from around here,” she guesses.

I smile back.

“What gave it away?”

“Your terrible accent, for one. And your good looks.”

“Well….Catina,” I say, reading her name off her name tag while moving closer. I make sure to maintain eye contact and smile. “Can I get a table?”

“On another day, I would have said yes without question. But an important guest is arriving soon. We can’t accept any walk-ins.”

“But I haven't eaten in a while, and I’m starving. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” I tell her, placing a flirty hand on her shoulder.

I give her my panty-dropping smile, and before I know it, I’m seated at a table eating a plate of some delicious Pastel De Nata.

Catina made it clear I only had thirty minutes before they’d need the table back.

Which means I have thirty minutes to disappear into the large restaurant.

I look around for a hiding spot, but I can’t see anything suitable.

I get the opportunity to hide when Catina heads into the kitchen briefly.

There’s no one else in the restaurant, and I hurriedly stand.

I head for the bathroom first but then decide that it’s the first place they’ll look.

I find a storage room beside the bathroom and sneak inside, hoping for the best. If I’m lucky, they’ll think I just left.

I already placed money for the food on the table.

Moments later, I hear voices outside the door speaking rapid Portuguese. Then the conversation switches to English as someone else joins them.

“How was I supposed to know he would leave? He acted like he was going to ask for my number before he left,” Catalina complains.

Sorry gorgeous, but I have work to do. Maybe next time.

“You shouldn't have allowed him in so close to Mr. Vierra’s arrival,” another voice scolds, male this time.

“He was really good-looking. I’m sorry,” is Catalina’s response, and the man chuckles.

I smile to myself as their voices drift away until silence fills the air. A few minutes later, I hear people, I’m guessing are the restaurant staff, chorus a greeting.

“Boa Tarde, Mr. Vierra.”

I don’t hear his reply, but my body immediately becomes alert at his presence.

I reach into my bag and grab the Sammy 1000.

It’s a device Sam developed a few months ago that allows a person to see through walls – he sure does love naming these things after himself.

It’s kinda like infrared, except instead of heat signatures, I’m seeing more details of the person and their movements, and can hear voices too.

He’s a tech genius that guy, and this device is cool, except for the obnoxious name.

I grab the glasses and immediately get an almost clear view of Mr. Vierra. He’s not what I was expecting. For some reason, I was expecting a tall, intimidating man with a bald head and a permanent frown. Kind of like a mob boss.

Mr. Vierra doesn’t look dangerous. He looks like an ordinary Portuguese man. A head full of brown hair, brown eyes, and standing well under six feet. He’s dressed in an expensive navy Italian suit, but apart from that, he looks pretty ordinary.

I watch for a few more minutes as he orders his meal and starts to eat.

When he asks for some water, though, his true colors come out.

My friend Catalina has the misfortune of serving him, but then she makes the mistake of spilling the water onto the table.

It drips onto Vierra’s pants, and he’s immediately furious.

He bangs his hands on the table before standing up.

“Por favor, Mr. Vierra,” Catalina says with wide eyes. “Please forgive me.”

Vierra flicks a hand in the direction of his bodyguards, and a second later, they yank Catalina away. She tries to reason with him, but he doesn’t even turn in her direction. My fists clench, but I know there’s nothing I can do.

Face screwed in disgust, Vierra turns to another waiter. They have a conversation during which the waiter points toward the bathroom. I take that as my golden opportunity. I carefully head into the bathroom and hide in one of the stalls. Hopefully, Vierra doesn’t need a bodyguard to escort him in.

I’ll probably have to bump into him or something to attach the tracking device discreetly onto his phone.

He walks in while I’m still thinking of a way to do this without seeming suspicious.

My tentative plan is ruined when I hear someone else follow him.

I grab the glasses to see who it is. It doesn’t look like a bodyguard.

Vierra wipes at his pants before saying something angrily in Portuguese.

I roll my eyes.

It was just a little water. He’s the embodiment of an entitled rich asshole.

I’m recording his conversation with the other man so I can head back to the hotel and ask Madison to translate. I don’t understand most of their rapid conversation until the men suddenly switch to English.

“It’ll be okay, Alexis. You have an important ball tomorrow. Don’t let anyone or anything ruin that,” the other man says, placing a hand on Vierra’s shoulder.

Vierra nods, and a minute later, the men exit. My brain whirs with the new information. First off, I need to get their conversation translated. Then I need to figure out how to get into the ball they mentioned.

It may be my best chance to get the device on the target.