Before I Go: A dark and tense psychological crime thriller. by Marie Reyes (the false prince series txt) 📗

the baby’s mouth, rather than everywhere else. Michael briefly wondered what lay in store for this child, what kind of suffering and trials waited in his future.

As he saw Josie smile, he knew she was meant for this world. She interacted with everyone around her, while he sat there, disconnected, a mere observer. He was glad the baby was there. It distracted everyone enough so Michael could keep to himself without having to pretend to fit in. Everyone lavished the baby with attention, revolving around it like it was the sun and they were powerless in its orbit.

Mateo and Gabriela shared their room with the baby and gave Josie and Michael a fleece blanket. The couch was theirs for the night. They started a small fire, especially for their last-minute guests, and Michael and Josie gazed at the fireplace as embers crackled and popped.

“See. I told you I had a good feeling about that guy. He said he’ll drive us into town in the morning when he goes into work. Then we go straight to the police, in the light of day.”

“Sounds good.”

“You okay? You’ve been quiet all night.” She shook her head as if realizing how ridiculous the words sounded. “About what happened earlier—”

“Maybe we should just go to sleep. I’m beat.” Michael wasn’t ready to tackle that particular minefield yet.

“How should we do this then?” Josie held the blanket in her arms.

“I could take the armchair, you can take the couch?”

“There’s plenty of room on the couch for two, besides, there’s only one blanket. Scooch.” She gestured for him to make room.

“Just so you know, I like to be the little spoon.” He joked.

“Noted.”  She laughed, and laid the blanket over him and got underneath, laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling. “Just so you know, I like being little spoon too. I can see this being a problem.” She didn’t say anything else, and turned onto her side, facing the living room with her back to him. He took that as an invitation and put his arm over her, wrapping it around her waist and holding her close to him. She let out a long sigh, as if her troubles were being expelled from her lungs and she held her arm over his and wiggled back a little so they were even closer. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her hair. The scent of floral shampoo and coconut sunscreen reminded him of the resort where they met, before things had all got so complicated. He tilted his head forward towards her neck, wanting to disappear in the warmth before he had to face whatever fresh hell tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Eighteen

He went to shout but ended up sucking warm cloth into his mouth. His nostrils flared, but no oxygen was getting in. It was completely black as something covered his whole head and muffled screams came from his left. Even through the thick fabric of his head covering, he recognized Josie’s cries and felt her next to him as someone forced him to his knees and bound his hands behind his back.

“Shut it, gringo.”

Michael could just about make out the words, unable to recall the voice. It wasn’t Julio.

“We’re getting up now. Keep calm. If you don’t struggle, I will leave this nice family alone with their brains intact. What do you say?”

Something cold and hard pressed against his temple; the steel muzzle of the gun dug through the fabric of the hood into the side of his head. A moment ago he had been enveloped in the blissful ignorance of sleep, and he couldn’t force words out of his mouth.

“What do you say?” The stern voice repeated.

He nodded and groaned as he was dragged up to his feet. As they pulled him along, he could barely stay upright as his legs refused to cooperate. He only realized they were outside when the night air brushed his arms and as he took another step, there was nothing there, and he fell forward, smacking against the ground, chest first, with no arms to break the fall. The whole front of his body stung with the impact and he tried to suck in air again, in shock, as if he had been plunged into icy cold water. There was no strength left in him, and he let his captor drag him along, hoist him up, and slam him against something solid. Barely able to tell which way was which, Michael realized he was horizontal, his head and feet touching metal. A weight struck him at his side, another warm body writhed next to him. “Josie?” He shouted through his hood.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

A slam above them made it darker than it already was, as if that was even possible. He was certain he was in the trunk of a car, cramped, squished up against Josie, barely able to move. The feeling of suffocating made him feel like he in the deepest-darkest-depths of the ocean, with meters of water bearing down on top of him. The pressure was too much. To keep himself sane, he concentrated on the task at hand, and his fingers contorted, trying to get purchase on the rope around his wrists. He hooked one of his fingers in a gap in between the knot and yanked at it, trying to loosen it. Warm vibrations rolled through him as the engine started up and the car began to move. Josie rolled into him as the car jolted forward, and his finger slipped out of the knot he was working to undo. It was almost impossible to concentrate once the car traveled at full speed.

“Turn around.” Josie’s words were choked.

He didn’t think and complied with her request. Her hand brushed his as she reached for the rope. It hadn’t even occurred to him that they would be able to get a better angle if they worked on each other’s ties. The brain was a mysterious organ when in panic mode. It