Page 8 of Dustin
“I fucking know that,” I growl. “Don’t tell anyone else until I call you again,” I say before hanging up.
I run my hand through my hair as I try to gather my thoughts.
Where could she be?
First and foremost, I need a car. Luckily, there’s a car rental right beside the hotel. Ten minutes later, I’m on the roads of Lisbon, trying and hoping to God that I spot her.
It’s no use, though. I don’t know anybody, and I also can’t start walking the streets of Lisbon, showing her picture to everyone I come across. I don’t even speak the language. With a groan, I pull over onto the side of the street and rest my head on the steering wheel.
Why did I have to be so goddamn stubborn? I should have just gone on the flight with her. If I had done so, then she would be safe right now. The best thing I can do now is head back to the hotel. Maybe there’s someone there who can help me.
My last option is to ask the agency for help. General Thrash will literally murder me in cold blood if he finds out I let anything happen to his daughter.
I head to the hotel and try to explain the situation to the receptionist.
To make things worse, my chest has a rapidly growing ache. I’m terrified for her. I just wish she would walk through the hotel doors—safe and sound.
I choke when the wish actually comes through. I blink and then blink again as I stare at Madison. She’s strolling in here as if I didn’t just spend the last hour worried out of my mind. She looks fine. She's embroiled in a conversation with a man wearing a hoodie and sunglasses like the receptionist’s description.
The first feeling that hits me is relief.
It’s so overwhelming that I'm not sure when my feet start moving toward her. Suddenly I’m standing in front of her, wrapping her in a hug.
“Hey,” Madison says in surprise.
“Do you have any idea how scared I was?”
Chapter 4
(Madison)
______
I’m not sure why Dustin’s hugging me right now. It feels so weird and yet familiar at the same time. He feels like home, which is crazy because he hasn’t been home to me in a long time. He pulls away, and I see relief in his expression. But then, almost immediately, the relief turns to anger.
“What the fuck, Madison?!” he questions. He looks and sounds incredibly on edge.
“When did you arrive?” I ask in confusion.
“Over an hour ago. I’ve been trying to contact you but your phone’s dead. I went into my hotel room and found all your clothes thrown all over. I thought something bad happened to you,” he says through gritted teeth. “Where were you? And who the fuck is this?”
Dustin turns to my friend and gives him a look of something akin to disdain.
“He’s my friend, Fabio,” I inform him.
“Hey man,” Fabio says, stretching his arm for a shake.
Dustin doesn’t take it, instead eyeing his hand like he’s carrying some contagious disease.
What the hell is wrong with him?
“And where did you go with this friend?” Dustin questions, his voice deceptively calm.
“We went to have dinner. I didn’t know you would get here so soon.”
“So you’re telling me, while I was here worried out of my goddamn mind, you were having dinner with him?”
“Yes,” I answer simply.
