Before I Go: A dark and tense psychological crime thriller. Marie Reyes (best reads .TXT) 📖

“Who was that guy? Samuel. I don’t understand,” she stuttered.

“Samuel Valentino Hernandez is someone you want nothing to do with. You need to go home. You need to be on a plane. Go home before things get nasty.”

“You mean that wasn’t nasty?” The pounding in Michael’s chest would not subside, and he looked out the back window again, half-expecting Samuel to be following behind them. Indestructible, like the villain of some horror franchise.

“Let me put it this way. I will be getting my family the fuck out of here before he even has a chance to wake up and get back to the main road.”

“Family?” Michael asked, somehow surprised that man who just shot someone in cold blood would have people he loved waiting for him at home. Hell, it was more than he had.

“We’re getting the fuck out. I’m just a driver. I was not meant for this shit.”

“Where are you going?” Josie asked.

“I think that’s enough questions, don’t you?” He checked his rear view mirror.

“I’m not finished.” Josie pushed her luck. “My sister. Do you know if they had her? What did they want with her?”

“Ismael Garcia.” He spoke the words as if they should mean something.

“What? Who is Ismael Garcia?” Josie took a slow, measured breath, trying to keep her cool.

“We used to share a car. We couldn’t even afford a heap of junk car, so we brought one together. I’d do day shift, he’d do night shift. Eventually we had enough to upscale, started our own little company.” His tone was surprisingly matter of fact, given what he was telling her.

“Ismael?” She mouthed, committing the name to memory.  “Did he? Did you?” Her voice caught in her throat.

“Ismael borrowed money from Samuel. I never would have started the company with him if I knew how he got it. Once you owe them you’re fucked. I just wanted to be a taxi driver. Take tourist around. It wasn’t the best money, but it was an honest living. I’m a simple man. I see where greed gets you.”

“Who took her? Tell me straight. Tell me now.” She demanded in a hoarse scream.

“Ismael did it as a favor to Samuel.”

“What the hell did Samuel want. Money? He got the money. Pretty much everything our parent’s had. Why didn’t he let her go?”

“Samuel was just the middle-man. Arranged it for his boss. She must have put up a fight, got herself killed.” He met her eyes in the rear-view mirror, a flicker of sympathy hid behind his matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh god,” she wailed, burying her head into the seat in front, covering her face with her hands. Michael went to reach out, but something stopped him. He gave her space to process what she was told.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel said weakly.

“So who’s his boss? They won’t get away with it. I won’t let them.” She was upright again, and in detective mode after wiping tears from her face.

“I never met the man, but trust me, he’s a guy you do not want to be messing with.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Her voice elevated to a scream.

“Believe what you want. It’s the truth,” he said calmly, seemingly unfazed.

“Okay. What about Julio? What does he have to do with all of this?”

“Julio’s a nobody. He helps get dope across the border from Belize. Only small amounts, nothing earth shattering. He does a run every once and a while, they leave his hotel alone. That’s the deal.”

“Samuel’s boss, do you know his name?”

“His real name, no. Everyone calls him El Verdugo.”

Michael had been so engrossed, listening to what they were saying, that he only noticed the light hissing noise as the car slowed to a stop.

“What happened?” Josie’s head turned from side to side fast enough to give anyone whiplash.

“I don’t know?” The man got out and inspected the front of the car. “Mierda.”

Not that he knew much about cars, but Michael got out to see what was going on. The man knelt down and ran his finger over a hole in the front of the car. As he got up and opened the front bonnet, steam poured out. “Mierda.” He slammed the bonnet shut and slammed his clenched fist against the metal.

“What is it?” Michael asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“El radiador.” He kicked the bottom of the car and zig-zagged in the middle of the road, muttering obscenities.

“This can’t be happening.” Josie leaned against the car in defeat. “What do we do now?”

Josie pulled her cell-phone from her pocket and pushed the on button, but it was dead. “Do you have someone you can call? Sorry in all the chaos, I never got your name.” She trailed behind him.

“I’m Miguel. There is a rest-stop, maybe three miles away, it will be quicker to walk.”

“You have the same name.”

“What?” he muttered, glancing back at her for a second. The ridiculousness of the statement made them wonder if Josie was in shock.

“Miguel is Spanish for Michael, right?”

Michael wondered how he could have gone his whole life without knowing that, when he heard a rumble coming. “Is that?”

Squinting as he stared into the distance, one of Miguel’s hands hovered over his weapon. “Not them,” he said as the car cruised closer. “Samuel has no way of contacting anyone anyway, we should have bought ourselves some time.”

Josie looked concerned. “Shall we flag them down?” The car was in danger of driving right past them until Miguel made the call, and started waving his arms. Much to Michael’s surprise the dark red Nissan pulled over to the side of the road. Pulsating bass sent vibrations they could feel through the ground until the driver turned the music down. The front car window slid down and Miguel talked to the driver so quickly Michael couldn’t even pick out a single word he was saying. He could just make out the driver as he peered through the crack in the open window. A young curly-haired man, with a nonchalant look, and one of the most