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"My thanks, Lieutenant."

Bridget felt the Shepherd's eyes roaming down her, but refused to look at him. When

the elevator stopped on E deck, the other five men got off, on their way to the chow hall,

and the elevator door closed again.

"What did he mean?" Bridget asked. "That Shepherd."

Drewe sighed. Did he have to explain everything to this female? He turned and looked

down at her, a smug male look on his face. "He was telling me to make sure the Captain

understands that when he tires of you, Wynth would appreciate the chance to bid on you

if Cree does not mind."

Bridget stared at the Lieutenant.
Over my dead body!

AS THE door to his quarters slid open, Cree stood facing her: this woman he could

not get out of his mind. He was not surprised to find her looking at him with wariness in

her beautiful green eyes.

Not the welcoming look he had hoped for or the tender look he found himself yearning

for, but a look of unease tinged with animosity.

"Where are her belongings?"

"I ordered one of the Watchers to bring them over," Lona replied. "She didn't have that much."

Bridget turned to glare at him. "You went through my things?"

"I ordered him to do so," Cree informed her and when she swung her angry attention to him, he winced at the command in his tone. He hadn't meant to sound so military or

demanding. He had wanted to put her at ease, but instead, he had offended her. He tried to

think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. He looked at Lona and found him

staring at the floor.

"Is there anything else, Captain?" Lona asked.

"No," Cree answered. He shifted, feeling sweat running down his back and could not

imagine why he felt so nervous or why his heart seemed to be beating so fast in his chest,

he could hear the sound in his ears.

"Go on, Drewe," ordered Cree. "Make sure I am not disturbed this evening."

Drewe grinned, nodded, and after casting one last look at the Captain's concubine, took

his leave.

"Captain Cree?" the Vid-Com chimed on. "Would you like something to calm you,

Sir?"

Bridget almost felt sorry for him as the red stain of embarrassment tinged the Reaper's

face; but his harsh denial of the computer's offer and his rigidly held posture made her

remember who and what he was and why she was there. She lowered her head and waited

for him to speak.

Cree felt like pulling the intercom unit out of the wall, stripping it of its wires and

stomping it to dust. If it had been physically possible to do so, he would have grabbed the

interfering, interrupting feminine smirk of a voice by its electronic throat and squeezed

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until there was no artificial life left in it. The gods-be-damned thing had to have been

reprogrammed by one of the Resistance and he made a mental note to have an Electronic

Tech check it over first thing the next morning. But the damage had already been done: it

had irritated him and he took his irritation out on Bridget.

"You know I bought you," he blurted and could have bitten off his tongue when she

looked up at him with annoyance.

"I was informed this morning that you had," she answered. "I understand I had no say in the matter." There was bitterness in her soft voice.

At a loss for anything soothing to say to her, he said what he hoped she wanted to hear.

"I will be good to you," he stated. "I have no intention of abusing you."

Bridget lifted her head and locked her gaze with his. "Since I will be completely at

your mercy, Captain Cree, and I know you to be a man of your word, I will be grateful for

any kindness you choose to show me."

This was not going as he had planned, Cree thought as he watched the disinterest linger

in her pretty eyes. He had hoped she would be pleased that he had freed her from the

Behavioral Mod Unit. Something had told him she did not like being a party to the torture

of those admitted there for therapy.

"Your duties will be to see to my comfort," he said and saw her wince. He hurried on with what he would expect from her. "To cook, clean, and maintain my personal

belongings." He swept an arm around the room. "As you can see, I do not like cleaning."

She looked around her with the same disinterest then nodded her understanding of his

demands.

"I will be leaving tomorrow morning..."

"You are returning to Earth?" she inquired, showing the first interest since her arrival.

He let it pass that she had dared to interrupt him and had spoken without permission.

He wanted to put her at ease so he made an effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice

when he answered.

"The United States." Bridget's face crinkled and she looked away from him. Any

mention of home never failed to make her bitterly regret where she was.

He sensed her unhappiness although emotional reactions were not something he would

have thought himself capable of defining before his trip to the therapy room in Be-Mod

Nine. That he seemed to be aware of the feelings of others both surprised and worried

him. He sat down on the edge of the sofa, pushing these new sensations out of his mind.

"While I am away," he said, testing her reaction to what he was about to say, "you will be confined to my quarters."

Bridget's head snapped up. "Why? For what purpose?"

He stiffened. "Because that is what I wish." He had no intention of telling her that he meant to make sure she did not see Konnor Rhye while he was gone. He had no concern

that he could keep them apart when he was on station, but being able to do so when he

was a thousand or more light years away would be difficult at best if she were where

Rhye could have access to her. He made another mental note to have the gods-be-damned

Keeper shipped as far away from FSK-14 as he could get him.

"I am to be a prisoner, then?" she challenged, her hazel eyes turning dark as sin.

Cree looked down to see that she was squeezing her hands together, her nails digging

into her palms. The look she gave him could have scalded the pinfeathers from a

Viragonian waterfowl. He found he did not like her regarding him in such a fashion.

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"Will you sit your ass down, woman?" Bridget's gaze narrowed, but she kept her

mouth closed. Her chin came up and she glared at him before sitting.

"And wipe that mutinous look off your face!" he ordered, heaving himself from the

sofa. "You were a very expensive acquisition and I aim to protect my investment. I meant no insult to you."

Bridget's pursed lips relaxed, but the look did not dissolve as he had expected it to.

This was not going at all as he had intended and he raked a hand through his hair. "I only meant to assure you that I hold you in the highest regard, Bridget. I wanted to repay you

for the kindness you showed me in the therapy room."

She mumbled something he didn't hear and he stopped, cocked his head to one side.

"What?" he barked.

Bridget shrugged. "I said it was part of my job."

He blinked, stung by her remark. "Do you treat all those of my kind the way you

treated me?" he demanded.

"There had never been any of your kind to pass through the Be-Mod Nine Unit before

you were sent to us, Captain."

"You know what I meant. Do you treat the rest of them as I was treated?"

She looked into his hostile eyes. "No, Captain," she replied quietly. "You were very special."

Kamerone Cree's facial expression softened and the daggers were sheathed in his gaze.

Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out to touch her, to lay his hand on her

arm, then shuddered violently and drew his hand back as though he'd been stung. He

folded his hands under his arms and put distance between them, wincing with pain.

"Captain?" She saw him glance toward the Vid-Com unit. "Are you all right?"

"Give me a moment," he hissed through his teeth. He felt the sharp pain go through his temple again and tried to shut down, to block his thoughts before his Controllers could

lock on to the emotions that had been building in him since Bridget's arrival. He could

feel the implants in his brain tingling as each area was probed and resented the intrusion

more than ever.

"If you become aware they are scanning him, take his mind from it. Do not give them

anything they can use against him to make him give you up
," the Director had insisted.

"What exactly is it you expect of me, Captain?" Bridget said loudly, drawing his

attention to her.

"Expect?" he repeated. He looked around the room, seeming not to have an answer for her question. He put up a hand to rub absently at his left temple. "I don't understand your meaning."

"What am I to do here?" she emphasized. "You said I was to take care of your needs.

What exactly does that entail?"

"My laundry.

"Anything else?"

"Like what?" Hadn't he made himself clear about what he expected of her?

The Vid-Com chimed on. "Captain Cree?"

"Aye!" he snapped with irritation.

"Lieutenant Lona is here with the doctor's belongings, Sir."

"Then bring them in!"

Bridget stood up as Drewe and two young men entered the quarters. "Is that my

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room?"

Cree glanced at the closed door. "Aye."

"Put her things in there," Drewe ordered his helpers. He glanced at Bridget, smiled hesitantly then accompanied the men into her room. He waited until her clothing was in

the closet and the box of personal possessions was laid on the bed then ushered out the

men. He smiled again at Bridget in passing then left with his helpers without saying a

single word to his commander.

Cree nodded at Bridget's look of inquiry. "You may unpack." When she went into her

new room, he followed. "You have very little in the way of possessions."

"I don't need much." She opened the box on her bed and took out a toiletry case, a few books and an antiquated CD player and a few disks, then moaned.

"What is it?" Cree demanded as he watched her reach in the box and pull out a

crumpled magazine photo.

"Of all the things they could have damaged, this I would not have had them harm," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She clasped the slick page to her chest. "Not this."

Curious to see whose photograph she cherished so deeply, the Reaper stepped forward

and held out his hand. "Let me see."

She hesitated, meeting his challenging gaze, then held the magazine page out for him

to take. "Please be careful with it. I found it in a trash bin and I doubt there's another like it anywhere on FSK-14."

Cree looked at the page and frowned. It was a photograph of a white marble statue

depicting a robed woman with outspread arms. The statue's face was lovely, serene, and

under her feet was a coiled serpent. He lifted his head and stared at Bridget. "Who is

this?"

"The Virgin Mary. The mother of Christ, Our Lord. I am a Catholic and I pray to her."

The Reaper's face relaxed. "I have heard of your religion." He looked down at the

statue. "This comforts you?"

"It reminds me of home. And yes, it comforts me."

He handed it back. "Then you may keep it."

He found her watching him with what could only have been anticipation, and not

pleasant anticipation at that. "What?"

"You didn't finish telling me about my other duties." Her mouth was tight; her

expression wary.

Cree's brows drew together in confusion then straightened as he realized what she

meant. "I bought a companion, Bridget."

"I will not be your whore, Captain Cree."

Cree folded his arms and looked at her, liking the way her eyes flashed and her face

had colored with a faint tint of rose. He cocked his head to one side in what she would

learn was a habit when he was assessing a situation newly presented to him. Almost in a

teasing fashion he regarded her from beneath thick brown lashes and one side of his

mouth quirked in what might have been a smile on a lesser man.

"Have I asked you to whore for me, Bridget?"

"I will cook for you." She glanced around, disgusted by the mess and aching to put

things to rights. "I will clean your home and try to make it as pleasant as possible for you." Her mouth tightened. "But I will not play the whore for you or any other man."

"Not even Konnor Rhye?" he asked before he thought and could have kicked himself

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for doing so.

Bridget's nails drew blood in the palm of her hand. "What is between Konnor and me is

—"

"Over," he said quietly, "What ever was between the two of you is over."

"Konnor and I are—"

"
Were
," he stressed.

"Captain, I don't think you understand how the two of us feel toward..."

He waved aside her words. "I do not wish to hear anything about the Keeper," he

snapped. "You will not speak of him to me again. Is that clear?"

"Konnor and I..."