Rising Tomorrow (Roc de Chere Book 1) Mariana Morgan (most life changing books .txt) 📖

It happened at some point right after he spoke, as the sound of her own name still rang in her ears. She recognised that voice. The memory of the last evening in her home came flooding in. The blue emergency light. Tilly’s absence. Silence. The stranger.

It was him.

Her body tried to get up and charge, but she no longer had any strength. The nausea of that night was back. Her privacy. Her home. Her sanctuary. All gone.

Somehow, she made it upright, and Gonzalez and Ingram stood up instinctively next to her.

Her stomach cramped, and she wrapped her hands tight around it. It made no sense, but the violation of her home was just too much to bear. Or maybe it was too much because it came on top of everything else. Maybe, despite the fancy healing drugs the 28th century had to offer, she had simply had enough.

She felt the half-digested food rising up in her stomach. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything. She retched hard, doubling over, involuntary tears blurring her vision.

‘You!’ she mumbled, wiping at the slimy puke with her hand. Somehow she was kneeling on the floor, but she had no idea how that had happened.

‘What is this?’ She looked at Gonzalez, defeated, more tears running down her face. ‘Are you going to be next?’

‘Next? For what? I don’t understand.’ Gonzalez knelt next to her.

‘To attack me! First him, then her.’ She waved her vomit-covered hand around the room, droplets shooting in all directions. ‘Are you going to drug me again and beat me up too? Are you going to jump me yourself? My home. My home!’ Her voice broke.

Lieutenant Rivas seemed to visibly shrink, and despite the seriousness of the situation Ingram struggled hard not to giggle. Looks like I’m off the colonel’s shit list. At least while he focuses on Raymond. Poor lad.

Gonzalez grabbed a syringe containing a mild sedative out of his pocket, but Eloise slapped his hand away, the syringe tumbling onto the carpet.

‘No! Stay away from me! No more drugs!’

Panic blinded her and she gasped desperately for air. Her tight chest hurt. Stomach acid burnt. Muscles tensed into tight bundles. Nerves squashed between muscle fibres fired wildly. Oxygen. She needed oxygen.

She needed a nice, cosy blue nano-patch, the way Jeff prepared them for her. And—

Her brain dulled, and she felt herself slump back against the side of the armchair.

For just a moment Gonzalez closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and gave both his subordinates a very pointed look. Rivas couldn’t have looked any more guilty. Ingram stood with an empty syringe still in her hand, biting her lip hard as if she were trying to stop it from quivering with laughter.

Gonzalez helped the half-sedated woman up from the floor and slowly lowered her into the armchair.

‘Ms Moretti, please take a few deep breaths.’

‘Will you just stop with this whole breathing-deep bullshit? I mastered the ability to breathe over fifty years ago, thank you very much. I can manage by myself.’ The words came out slurred, as if her brain were working faster than her ability to enunciate sounds.

Gonzalez lifted both his hands up in a gesture of surrender and sat back in his own chair.

‘Who the hell are you people?’ Eloise enquired into the stretching silence, taking her time to speak clearly. She still felt raging panic inside, but it was somehow distant. As if someone had placed a spongy wall between her and the terror that threatened her sanity. The sponge distorted as the terror slammed into it, but it held, cushioning the effect and protecting her. Her body still ached from the muscle tension, but as more of her muscle fibres relaxed the ache became distant, almost like a memory.

Despite the explosive retching, she was almost clean. Most of the vomit had gone straight onto the carpeted floor, and she was now busy wiping her face and hands off with a towel Ingram had placed on her lap.

‘You attack me, and drug me, and beat me up. And you bullshit me about needing help. What does the military have to do with an adult VRP? It’s a police matter. They can deal with that Valentano girl, or whatever her name was. And the rest? They are Leeches. They die.’ Again, she managed to pronounce the word as if it were beneath her notice, and Ingram stirred uneasily. ‘Why did you kidnap me?’ The last question came out as a shriek.

‘Your VRP is involved in a murder, Ms Moretti.’

‘So take me back to the police!’ she wailed, and her chest tightened even more. The panic was trying to rise above the sedatives coursing through her bloodstream. She clutched at a glass of water Ingram had placed in front of her and sipped with shaky hands.

‘A high-ranking police officer, Commissioner Wagner, who is now in charge of the investigation, tried to kill you. Kill you and dispose of the evidence. I can assure you, he will try again if he finds out that both you and the VRP survived.’

Gonzalez was fairly sure that talking about certain death wasn’t going to calm Ms Moretti down, but she hadn’t given him any other choice. The woman was remarkably resistant to hints and common sense.

‘But why does the military care about the murder of civilian Leeches?’ Again, the word carried a heavy dose of contempt.

‘Because someone has to!’ Ingram exploded before Gonzalez could open his mouth. Maybe she had been through too much lately. Maybe she no longer even wanted to be rational. Maybe the cumulative effects of Eloise Moretti’s attitude had finally got her. But most importantly, the Elite woman appeared to personify one thing that Ingram hated more than outright cruelty towards Leeches—ignorance. ‘Because your VRP was used to murder human beings,’ she continued, enraged. ‘Not everyone was born a filthy Elite, spoilt by privileges and oblivious to the point of ignorance. Not