Eleven Rules: A gripping domestic suspense (The Rules Book 1)

by PJ Vye

  “Sunny, our situations are very diff—”

  “Mat, you can release the formula without telling anyone you experimented on your cousin.”

  “It would take months before Junior would be well enough to travel on a commercial flight home to Samoa. I don’t get the private charter for him without the interview, and that involves the entire story.”

  He looked down the street he’d just come and then turned back to her. “I’ve got to go. I’m late.”

  “Mataio, please.” She knew, despite how desperate she sounded, it wouldn’t make any difference. He was oblivious. And she wasn’t sure he’d even care if she told him the other thing.

  He shuffled his feet without moving anywhere and eventually said, “Sunny, I’m so sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

  Her throat let out an involuntary sob and she couldn’t answer.

  Mataio grabbed her hand and pushed it roughly against his mouth. As he kissed it, she leaned into him. “Mat…”

  He left her on the footpath and bolted towards the Channel Nine building.

  The sudden acceleration of a silver car made her jump, and she leaped away as it squealed to a stop near her. She watched, tears still hanging on her cheeks as car doors opened and two men approached Mataio, grabbed him on the arms and tried to turn him away from the building.

  Mataio struggled, the sleeves of his jacket pulled away from his arms as he tried to wrench himself away from them. The two men held on and lifted Mataio towards the car.

  Sunny heard herself scream, “Mataio?” She ran towards them. “Let him go. Let him go.”

  Mataio stopped struggling as Sunny approached and yelled at her, “It’s okay. Just leave, Sunny. You need to go. Get out of here.”

  The two men looked at her like she might be important and Mataio glared at her again. “Go!”

  She ran. The Channel Nine automatic doors opened frustratingly slowly as she sped through them. She’d seen the uniformed men when she’d entered before. “Security, please. Help me.”

  The uniformed security officers followed her instantly.

  She glimpsed Mataio, who fought back, being pushed into the back door of the silver car.

  The security officers stopped once they got outside, and Sunny, at their hesitation, flung herself at the driver’s side of the car and tried to pull the keys from the ignition.

  The driver, realising his mistake, let go of Mataio and circled the car. She couldn’t release the key from the lock in time and the man pulled her roughly away. Sunny hit the curb hard and couldn’t move for a second.

  A man came to her side and she screamed and pushed him away until she realised it was one of the security guards.

  Sunny pulled her phone from her purse and fumbled for the video button. She couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking and it wouldn’t record. After several attempts she pretended it was working. “Smile for the camera boys. You want your picture to be all over Crimestoppers? We got plenty of witnesses.” She pretended to film the registration plates and the men.

  Distracted by the camera, the man holding Mataio in the car lost his grip and Mataio pulled himself free. He raised his fists up with a frightening, menacing look.

  “Mataio? Are you okay?” she screamed.

  The other security guard stood beside Mataio in support and the kidnappers backed away and drove off.

  Sunny ran to Mataio and his arms opened for her. “Are you okay?”

  “What did I tell you, Sunny? Why do you never listen to me?”

  “A habit I hope never to break.”

  A group of people started to gather and with his arm around her, they hobbled inside the building, security both sides of them.

  Two more uniformed men arrived and followed them in.

  They were escorted past reception and into the secure part of the building, via a lift to the seventh floor. Neither of the security men seemed overly troubled by the scuffle outside and asked no questions. Probably an average day for them.

  Not for Sunny though and she had a hundred questions for Mataio once they were alone.

  They were led to a waiting area and were told someone would be with them soon. The security detail left as efficiently as they’d arrived.

  Sunny froze a moment, not wanting to move away from him. She felt the rise of nausea in her stomach and swallowed it down. No time for nausea now. She had Mataio all to herself and she wouldn’t waste a second of it.

  He sat close beside her. The simple gesture made her enormously relieved. She needed the warmth of him right now.

  “Who were those men in the car, Mataio?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He shook his head and rubbed a spot on the back of his neck and grimaced. “I’m supposed to be signing a deal for $100 million dollars. They seem a bit disappointed I won’t be there.”

  “You think?” she asked and turned to look at him squarely. “Are you hurt?”

  She took his face in her hands and checked his head over, then the back of his neck, his hands, his shoulders, his arms through his suit. He sat very still, not making a sound although she thought he was probably in pain.

  When she finished her inspection, he stared at her, without the usual sadness behind his eyes.

  “What?” she asked. “Are you in shock?” She wondered if she was in shock herself. She still wanted to be sick.

  “You look different today. I’m not sure what it is.”

  “It’s probably the major trauma of seeing you being dragged into someone’s car against your will. That can mess up a person’s look,” she said and rubbed his neck behind his ear. He closed his eyes momentarily and let her. In a smaller voice she asked again, “Who were they, Mataio?”

  “They don’t want me to release the formula to the media. That’s all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Money, profits, business.”

  “You’re going to do it anyway?”

  “Once it’s done, they’ll have no reason to hurt me. It’ll be too late.”

  Sunny didn’t want to ask how they were going to stop him from talking. The thought sent a shiver through to her bones.

  Mataio noticed and rubbed her back. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

  She shook her head no, not mentioning the nausea. His hand on her back pushed any other thought aside.

  Mataio’s voice deepened. “You fought hard for me.”

  Sunny noticed the question in his voice, like he wondered why she would. “You deserve to be fought for,” she said.

  “I don’t think I do, Sunny.”

  “Funny thing is, you don’t get to decide who and what I think is worth fighting for.”

  His eyes met hers directly. She held his gaze until he leaned in to kiss her.

  As their lips met, her head spun. Something had changed in him. What was it? This wasn’t like last time. This kiss felt like goodbye.

  She heard someone cough.

  “Excuse me Dr Brinn? I’m here to take you through to the preparation area. Are you ready?”

  They rested their foreheads together for a brief moment before Mataio pulled away and said, “I’m ready.”

  Sunny panicked. Why did she think she’d never see him again? It was just an interview. He’d be back soon. They could go for coffee and she could ask him about The Rules.

  “Can I come too?” she asked the man who introduced himself to Mataio as Christopher. She couldn’t help the desperation in her voice. She didn’t want to be separated from him.

  “You’ll be more comfortable here. Someone will come get you before the interview. Help yourself to the coffee machine,” Christopher said, smiling like he had no idea her body felt like it was being split in two with him gone.

  Mataio nodded and she let him go.

  She needed a toilet anyway. Something was definitely up with her stomach.

  Either it was the shock of Mataio nearly being taken away against his will or it was the positive p
regnancy result she’d received that morning.

  Forty-Seven

  MATAIO

  1 day to go

  Christopher led Mataio to the makeup room and indicated a chair for him to sit. He handed him a set of wireless earbuds and Mataio listened to the potential questions he’d be asked by the reporter.

  The makeup artist entered and smiled but didn’t try and engage in conversation. Mataio was grateful as the droning voice in the earbuds combined with his own raging thoughts were making him dizzy. He’d taken a couple of blows to the head and was in more pain than he’d let on. Maybe he should ask Christopher for some pain killers?

  Where did your initial inspiration come from?

  How did you develop the compound?

  How long did the process take?

  What made you think it would be safe to test on your cousin?

  The makeup artist indicated for him to look up so she could apply something under his eyes. He stared at the large digital screen with the date and time—November 6th. The date that had been imprinted in his brain for so long. The last day of The Rules.

  Tomorrow he could have everything he wanted.

  How long did you test the product on animals before trialing it on your cousin?

  But what did he want? He’d been certain he wouldn’t change much about his life. He’d grown comfortable with the structure of it. Keeping to himself. Living only to serve. It wasn’t a bad life.

  Was there any moment you doubted yourself?

  There was something about Sunny today that was different. She looked happier. Complete. Had her feud with Karina been weighing on her that much? Could confessing the truth make such a difference?

  He was happy for her.

  Would she come with him to Samoa if he asked her? Is that what he wanted?

  Was it hard to convince your cousin to be your first human tester?

  The makeup artist squeezed her eyes shut and he followed her unspoken instruction. As soon as his eyes closed he saw Sunny. She was smiling at him.

  Yes. He wanted her.

  But she wasn’t safe with him. Even after all this time she wasn’t safe with him.

  Yet she’d stood up to those men in the car just before. She wouldn’t just take it, like his own mother had. She’d fight. She’d demand the respect she deserved.

  For a while she would. Then she’d start to wear down, like they always did. Like she did with Judd and then she’d end up a shell of a woman, beaten and isolated.

  Why are you giving away the formula? Why not sell it?

  Just one more day and he could sell the formula. Disappear and live well. Enjoy the best things in life. Buy an island. Live alone. No-one hurts, no-one dies.

  How many lives do you think this drug could save, potentially?

  How many lives did he need to save? The Rules didn’t specify. Only that he had to save as many as he could.

  Explain, in everyday language, how the formula works.

  Junior would live and he was grateful he’d been able to make that happen, but he still didn’t feel any peace.

  How does it feel, knowing you’ve made, potentially, the biggest discovery since penicillin?

  No matter what he did, who he saved, how hard he worked, what he gave up, he still carried it around with him. He was his father’s son. And like his father, he was not in control of his temper—that biological rage he’d inherited.

  And yet his father had seemed so changed today. After twenty-five years in prison, he’d been transformed.

  How long did it take to make this drug, from the moment you decided to try to the moment you knew it worked?

  Mataio felt exactly the same way he felt before The Rules. There was no enlightenment. No peace. No healing. His plan hadn’t worked.

  The makeup artist tapped him on the knee, and he opened his eyes, unaware for a moment where he was. He pulled the earbuds from his ears and as he stood and looked at himself in the mirror, he saw the same fifteen-year-old boy, still searching for a place to belong, separate from everyone else.

  Twenty years and the debt still hadn’t been paid.

  Forty-Eight

  MATAIO

  1 day to go

  Sunny was waiting for him at the studio doors after his makeup session.

  “You look so pretty,” she grinned.

  She looked so happy to see him. Mataio gave her his best pretend sneer and together they entered. The small studio space was much like any other office space, but for a bunch of lights and cameras.

  Sunny’s fingers slipped inside his and he held them tightly.

  A couple of tech people, a man and a woman, aligned some lights and spoke to someone through an earpiece, unhurried and carrying on a second conversation with each other in the room. They all seemed to know the routine and seemed unaware that everything in Mataio’s life was about to change forever.

  To them it was just another day at work.

  Sunny squeezed his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

  He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to lose himself in her and forget the world. He wanted to run away and pretend there were no consequences and no choices to be made.

  “What will you do, Mataio. If you can’t be a doctor anymore?”

  “I’m pretty good with my hands. Maybe a gardener.”

  “You’ve broken the law. What if they send you to prison?”

  Mataio knew she was talking about the serum, but her question still jarred him.

  “What if they did?” he asked, not daring to look at her. “Would you wait for me?”

  She let go of his hand and started to brush down his suit with her hands.

  “You’re lucky they didn’t rip this jacket with all that fighting before,” she said, her voice shaky as she straightened his tie. “Although I suppose they’d have a wardrobe department here. It’s never a good look to go on camera in a ripped suit,” she chattered on.

  “Sunny, I—”

  “I would wait for you, Mataio. You just need to ask,” she said. Her hands stopped moving and rested on his chest. “You just need to ask.”

  The lilt in her voice reminded him of another time and place.

  “We’re ready for you now, Dr Brinn. Please come this way,” said Christopher, appearing from the other side of the room.

  Mataio’s heart skipped as he kissed Sunny lightly on the lips, touched her cheek and walked towards the lights. He didn’t turn back, because he knew if he saw her face, all happy and contented, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

  He sat in an office chair behind the long-angled desk and his makeup lady returned to check his face under the lights.

  He couldn’t see her but he knew she was still there.

  He just had to ask. He just had to ask. He just had to ask.

  Could he ask her? Could he belong to her? Could he be allowed to love her and be loved back?

  The cold, fast response in his head answered irrefutably.

  No.

  “Veronica Knight will be here in a just a few minutes. Just take some time to get used to the space and go through those responses again. There’s some water on the desk. Is there anything else you need Dr Brinn?” asked Christopher, already moving towards the door.

  Mataio shook his head then reached for the water. His hand shook as he lifted it to his mouth, and he put it down quickly.

  The Rules ended tomorrow, and everything was still the same. Nothing had been resolved. There was no magic redemption. Maybe twenty years wasn’t long enough. Maybe he could go on a bit longer? How long would Sunny wait?

  A woman dressed in a white suit with large white heels approached him.

  He stood and shook her hand.

  “Dr Brinn, can I call you Mat? Veronica Knight,” she said as if she needed no explanation. Mataio didn’t watch television and didn’t recognise the woman.

  He didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell her that. “Pleased to meet you,” he said and waited for her to sit before taking his ow
n seat.

  “You’ve been briefed on the questions?” she asked, flicking through the papers in front of her.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “This is quite the discovery, isn’t it? Is it for real?” She asked, looking up directly into his face and he figured she was used to finding out all sorts of secrets.

  “Yes. To the best of my knowledge.”

  She nodded and stared at him a while longer, obviously trying to get a non-verbal read. He took a long breath and looked back in the direction of Sunny.

  “Mataio, you don’t have to do this. Last chance,” called Sunny’s voice from across the room.

  “We’ll need to get the studio cleared, Chris,” said Veronica.

  He could hear Sunny protesting as she was led away and once again admired her fighting spirit.

  “Don’t worry, she can watch the interview tomorrow night when it airs,” said Veronica, as a person came and shifted some of her hair and sprayed it into place.

  When the red light came on, Veronica began asking questions. He answered with an easy smile and quiet manners.

  Only Mataio’s responses were on automatic—his body was in the room but his thoughts were somewhere else—his mouth said the words the reporter wanted to hear, but he knew the truth.

  Question after question he lumbered, feeling as deceitful and fake as the makeup on his face. Artificially lathered on to smooth out the blemishes.

  Despite the air-conditioning in the television studio, droplets of sweat formed torrents down his back as he answered the composed, white suited woman in front of him.

  Her last question still rang in his ears as he looked past the cameras and bright lights to the camera operators who now stared at him with admiration of the incredible discovery he’d made and the potential it held.

  But their admiration couldn’t reach him.

  He realised then, as a haze of reckoning lifted, he never would. Genuine feelings were lost to him. His life, every single piece of it, was based on a half-truth.