Page 50 of Married to My Master

“Are you hurt?” Dane asked brusquely as he looked her up and down, pistol hanging at his hip.

She shook her head. “No, I'll live.”

As the two of them walked down the entry hall and back into the spacious living room, with Emily as it taped-up centerpiece, Emily had a moment of clarity. Those were laser sights on guns that were searching all over Dane's body for the proper place to shoot. This was going to end badly. Like, Bonnie and Clyde badly.

The man she loved wasn't going to make it out of this alive.

# # #

Dane

“Off the record,” Dane said as, gun still in hand, he led Emily into the living room, “I have no intention of hurting anyone, and definitely not Emily. In fact, I care about her a great deal. I'm just trying to get my brother's story heard. When theTimesturned down the story, despite the evidence I'd gotten, I didn't know what else to do, Charlene.”

“Right,” Charlene said, clearly skeptical as she glanced down at the big automatic pistol in his hand, “I hope you understand that I'm a little doubtful of your claim.”

Emily made a wordless noise, getting their attention. Her eyes went to Dane's, and she gestured to her mouth with her fingers, the only parts of her hands she could still move.

She was right. Let it come from her lips, not his. “Right,” he said. “Well, here, take it from the horse's mouth.”

The woman he loved glared at him a little bit for his poor choice of words as he removed the piece of tape from her mouth, gently peeling it from her upper and lower lips.

“God, I hate that shit,” Emily groaned as it came free. She immediately fixed her eyes on Charlene. “He's telling the truth. Believe me, he is. This is about BioSphere trying to cover up their trials on Hymalete and the damage they've caused with the medication. Nothing more.”

Charlene raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “I've heard it all, now.”

This was it, Dane realized. This was his moment. But there was no way he was going to do it without Emily. She was the key in all this, and he knew it.

“You ready to start recording?” Dane asked Charlene. “I have a feeling we don't have much time.”

“Uh, yeah,” Charlene said, digging in her bag and pulling out her phone. She sat down in a chair adjacent to Emily and fiddled with the device for a moment. She held it up in front of her, saying her name, the date, and where she was recording. With it still recording, she focused the phone on Emily. “Ready when you are. Go ahead, state your name and who you are, so there's no question on authenticity.”

Emily leaned forward, still taped up. “Emily West, current CEO of BioSphere.” She looked to Dane.

“Me?” he whispered.

“You're the one at the center of this, aren't you?” Charlene asked, as she trained the phone's camera on him. “You might as well be on record here, too.”

He ran a hand through his hair and scratched at his chin. “Dane Bishop, former Air Force Lieutenant.”

Charlene moved the camera back to Emily. “Go ahead, Ms. West.”

Emily took a deep breath, going back through her memory and organizing all her thoughts into as succinct a story as possible.

“It all started, I think, about a week ago, when Mr. Bishop showed up at my office. At least, my part in this did . . .”

Over the next few minutes she retold the story, more or less, as they had told Jas the day before. She left out all the kidnapping details, all the sex, and the other minor events, like the dog collar. From the point of Jas on, though, the story aligned close enough to reality that there were no hitches in her story at all.

“You're contending that Edward Barker, the head of sales, and the board of directors, are setting you up to take the fall for Hymalete, and its poor performance?”

“As far as Edward Barker has said,” Emily reminded her, “the directors are involved, or at least have knowledge of what is going on with that specific product line. Have I been able to see any direct evidence? No. But, the evidence on the drug trials themselves, I think, speaks for itself. And I have plenty of that.”

“Where?” Charlene asked.

“My personal email. I have the files.”

“Anything else?” the reporter asked, eying them both very carefully, glancing down to Dane's pistol still in his hand.

Emily shook her head, then changed her mind. “Actually, one thing. I want you to understand that Dane's not a bad man. Not at all. He's doing this out of love—”

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