Free o ed4c3e33dafa4d72 by Sylvie Pepos Page B

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    Bridge sighed. "I'm not sure it serves any purpose other than to punish you."
    Cree had to agree with her. As punishments went, it sure as hell got his attention. And
    if Onar had wanted him humbled, the reinforcement had achieved that purpose.
    There was a chime and the Vid-Com clicked on. "Dr. Dunne?"
    "Yes?"
    "I was asked to remind you that you have a dinner engagement with Commander
    Rhye."
    "Thank you. I'm on my way."
    Cree frowned sharply. "You have an engagement?"
    "With Commander Konnor Rhye. Do you know him?"
    "No," came the brittle reply.
    "I don't suppose there's any reason you should. I'd better get going. He doesn't like to be kept waiting. Have I answered your questions?"
    Cree lifted one shoulder with disdain and his voice was wintry when he answered. "It
    appears you have."
    Bridget did not miss the coldness in his tone and wondered why he wasn't as friendly
    as he had become of late. Finally deciding it was nerves, anticipation of his last day of
    treatment come morning, she thought it best that she leave.
    "Then I'll see you in the morning," she told him. When he didn't respond, she left, a little concerned with the look he had given her.
    Only one thought kept running through Cree's head that night: The faceless man in his
    nightmares now had a name.
    EVERY ONE of the people in the treatment suite was a stranger to him. Even the
    orderlies who had brought him to the room had been unknown. As Cree looked at the
    unfamiliar faces of the four women techs—faces that held no warmth, no compassion, no
    interest in him—he felt a shiver of apprehension run down his spine. He glanced at the
    physician who was standing off to one side and became even more uneasy when he
    realized it wasn't Dr. Dean. This woman had a brutal, anticipatory look that made the
    hairs stand up on his arms.
    "Get on the table, Cree," Onar ordered from the gallery. "We don't have all day."
    Cree glared at the man, but before he could say anything, the new doctor was almost
    toe to toe with him.
    "Do as you are told. Get on the table! Now!" she demanded, her spittle hitting him in the face.
    He wanted to reach out and grab the woman's throat, squeeze until her eyes popped
    out. He wondered what they would do to him if he did.
    Dr. Delyn Sorn jabbed a stiff finger into Cree's chest. "If you don't get on that gods-be-damned table right this minute, I promise you I will keep you on it the entire day!"
    Cree looked down at the finger poking into his bare chest then reached up, took the
    woman's hand and bent the finger back almost to the point of breaking.
    " Gawwwwwwwh! " the woman shrieked. Her eyes bulged and her knees buckled.
    "Cree!" Onar shouted from the gallery. "Guards! Restrain him!"
    Once he had his tormentress on her knees on the floor, Cree let go of her hand, turned
    —and with a vicious smile on his face—hopped up on the treatment table, lay down, and
    spread his arms and legs. He ignored the doctor's plaintive wails as she cradled her
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    injured hand.
    "You will regret that," Onar promised him.
    "Yes, he will," the doctor blubbered.
    Cree could have cared less. Even when she came to stand over him, gloating as her
    techs clicked his restraints into place over his arms and legs and throat, he managed to
    ignore her threats. She was glaring down at him and he thought she had to be the most
    butt-ugly Diabolusian he had ever seen. Her fierce stare told him she could be as cruel as
    any Defense Academy DI and was probably twice as perverted.
    "I am going to hurt you, Cree," he heard her whisper.
    "Give it your best shot," he muttered.
    One of the techs stepped up to the table to fasten the EKG monitor band across his
    chest. Her hands were rough as she made sure it was tight enough. "Fine