by A. P. Jensen
Jordan felt her body shiver as her mind slowly, unwillingly began to surface from the numbness that kept her sane. The whirlwind of police officers, social workers, therapists and attorneys that took turns trying to intimidate, comfort and coerce her was at an end, or was it? A man named Mr. Penn whisked her away and tried to convince her that everything was going to change.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Jordan tensed. A pair of gleaming shoes and black slacks appeared between her and the desk. Jordan pulled the ratty hat she wore so low her eyelashes touched the brim. She’d wondered about this man her whole life and now that he stood not a foot from her, she couldn’t even look up to see his face.
“Sweeney,” a deep voice said.
“Parker,” the secretary responded with a bite in her tone. She pressed the button on the intercom. “He’s here, Mr. Penn.”
When Mr. Penn’s voice gave permission to enter the shoes strolled to the wood paneled door. Jordan looked up in time to see a tall man with wavy shoulder length black hair close the door behind him. Jordan felt Margaret watching her again but after a few moments the secretary began to type again.
“I have to admit, I never thought you’d get involved,” Mr. Parker said sardonically. “Don’t you have more important things to do?”
Jordan stared at the closed door of Mr. Penn’s office. She shot a glance at Margaret Sweeney who seemed oblivious to the voices Jordan could hear clearly.
“I have a lot to do but this needs to be taken care of first. Did you look at the girl sitting outside?” Mr. Penn asked.
“What?”
“Did you look at her?” Mr. Penn said impatiently.
“I saw her,” Mr. Parker said irritably. “I have better things to do than sit here talking about some homeless girl.”
“That homeless girl,” Mr. Penn said tersely, “was with William. I needed to know why and I think I figured it out.”
A long silence and then, “What did she tell you?”
“She hasn’t said more than five words in two days. She’s in shock but there’s something about her. She met Angelina.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in Mr. Penn’s voice.
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“Everything.”
“That’s impossible.”
Mr. Parker’s voice raised the hair on Jordan’s nape.
“Apparently not.” Mr. Penn was amused and not at all intimidated by Mr. Parker.
Mr. Parker’s voice held no inflection when he replied, “How much is this going to cost me?”
Mr. Penn snorted. “You can’t buy your way out of this. You know what this means. This will never stop. You have to give her your name.”
“No.”
“It’s time to take your place in the real world.”
“I’m not doing this with you.” There was a scrape of chair against wood as Mr. Parker stood, sending his chair skidding backwards.
“This isn’t an offer, Donovan. You don’t have a choice!”
“You’ve made a mistake,” Mr. Parker’s voice was a deadly hiss. “I don’t want her.”
A familiar ache flared in Jordan’s chest. It was as if someone with a pick was constantly, relentlessly tapping at her heart. Insistent, irritating and painful. She wouldn’t let herself think that the return of pain had anything to do with Mr. Parker’s rejection. She searched within herself for calm and found only fire. As emotions threatened to swamp her, Jordan ran a trembling hand over the prescription bottle of pain pills in her pocket. She rose gingerly but didn’t wince when she put weight on her damaged knee.
The secretary’s head snapped up but Jordan ignored her. She walked down the hall to the bathroom and slammed herself into a stall. Breathing shallow, she leaned against the bathroom door and tried to stop the shudders. She felt raw and full of emotions she couldn’t define. Jordan yanked the orange bottle out of her pocket and swallowed the pills that would keep the monster within her leashed. Ignoring the bitter taste in her mouth, she sank to the aqua tile floor.
Images crowded her mind and she shook her head as if that would stop the memories from appearing. Visions of people with their faces covered in blood, eyes filming over as death claimed them reached out to her with desperate hands. A harsh sob escaped and echoed in the empty bathroom. Jordan pulled her knees to her chest and rocked, willing the pills to work faster.
Time oozed past. The bathroom door opened and Margaret Sweeney called her name. Jordan rose and leaned against the wall for support for a few seconds before ambling out of the stall. Jordan could practically feel the pity the woman radiated before she left her in peace.
Jordan stared into the mirror and braced herself against the sink. Dull sapphire eyes with dark shadows beneath testified to her insomnia. Long black waves framed her face, a startling contrast to her pale skin. She averted her eyes as she washed her hands.
She exited and came face to face with Mr. Penn who wore a pinstriped suit with ultra-thin glasses propped on a balding head and leather gloves. He waved her towards the open door of his office at the end of the hall. As they passed Margaret, Mr. Penn spoke quickly to her, words Jordan didn’t bother to interpret. Jordan stopped in the entrance of Mr. Penn’s office. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Parker propped against the far wall. He made no move forward. Even through the effects of the pills, panic welled in her chest. Why was he still here?
Mr. Penn motioned Jordan to sit in one of the chairs before his desk. The broad window behind Mr. Penn filled the room with light and left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Jordan could feel Mr. Parker’s gaze on the back of her head and she hunched her shoulders as if that could protect her from the hostility wafting from him.
Mr. Penn was an older man in his fifties and the calm that surrounded him soothed her fried nerves as nothing else had. Two days ago Mr. Penn burst into her hospital room where she was being interrogated and told two very intimidating police officers to screw themselves and took her out of there. She’d known him less than forty eight hours and she desperately wanted to cling to him but she knew that was pointless.
“You know who Mr. Parker is?” Mr. Penn asked.
She nodded and waited for Mr. Parker to say something or leave but he did neither. He stayed somewhere behind her cataloguing with burning eyes. Her nerves stretched. She couldn’t bear to look at him. He wouldn’t take her so what alternatives was there? Would she be sent back to Haven or a mental institution?
“Mr. Parker will gladly take you in, my dear,” Mr. Penn said.
Jordan didn’t react. A taut silence fell over the office as Mr. Penn watched the teen and waited for her to say something, anything. Jordan hadn’t asked him who he was or where he was taking her. Her blue eyes had seen too much and didn’t believe in hope. Penn noticed that her body shook with occasional, involuntary shudders. Going through her foster system files Penn had been shaken by the untold horror behind the impersonal notes on her life thus far. And now this. Penn clenched his hands beneath the desk. It was time for the girl to walk a different road, live the life she should have lived.
Mr. Parker straightened away from the wall and took the chair beside Jordan with his head turned in her direction. She didn’t move. Even through the numbing effect of the pills, emotions bubbled beneath the calm facade.
“Look at me,” Mr. Parker said harshly.
Jordan’s head snapped up and her eyes were filled with challenge. Mr. Parker wore a red shirt that highlighted his olive toned skin. He had a broad forehead, thick brows and a straight nose. Even with the bright light in the room his eyes were liquid black with no warmth.
Mr. Parker reached out to grab Jordan’s arm with a gloved hand and that fast she was out of her chair and backing away from both men, eyes devoid of emotion. Her body was rigid with battle ready tension. She didn’t stop her retreat until she came up against a bookshelf so hard several photographs toppled forward. Mr. Penn was speaking in a soothing tone but her eyes were focused on Mr. Parker.
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“Jordan is sensitive to skin contact at the moment,” Mr. Penn said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means exactly what you’re thinking.”
“Come here,” Mr. Parker said.
Jordan didn’t move.
“Come. Here.”
“Don’t talk to her that way. She’s been through enough-” Mr. Penn blustered angrily.
Mr. Parker’s voice was coated in ice. “You put her in my care. I can talk to her any way I like.” He eyed Jordan. “I need to know how you knew William.”
The name caused Jordan’s vision to blur with nightmares. She could see William’s mad eyes staring into her own as his hands squeezed her throat, cutting off her air. Jordan swayed. Gloved hands snatched her up and plopped her back into the seat before she could fight back. Mr. Parker cupped Jordan’s face. The blue eyes that met his were instantly cleared. Although his touch wasn’t welcome, it kept her in the present.
“Did you meet William Stan before the massacre two days ago?”
Jordan pushed away the compulsion to answer. It was none of his business and she owed him no explanations. Mr. Parker tightened his grip on her chin and leaned close so their faces were separated by inches. The menace that rippled off him stopped her breath.
“You will answer me.”
He refused to let her look away. Power emanated from this man and she knew he was just as dangerous as William.
“The authorities think you’re in league with William Stan, responsible for killing hundreds. As far as I see it, I’m the only person standing between you and being thrown into a jail cell.” A deliberate pause and then, “Did you meet William Stan before he murdered over two hundred people two days ago?”
Jordan stayed silent for a long minute. She stared into Mr. Parker’s unwavering gaze and finally gave a reluctant nod. Mr. Parker released her.
“Do you think he knew?” Mr. Penn asked.
Mr. Parker slashed a hand through the air. “I’ll take care of this. I trust you can keep quiet? Everyone’s in an uproar as is. No one can know she’s connected to William.”
Mr. Penn pulled himself together. “Of course. Sweeney, Angelina and I are the only ones that know and none of us will talk.”
Jordan’s didn’t hear anything. Her ears began to ring and she bowed her head to stop the dizziness. Mr. Penn and Mr. Parker’s voices buzzed in her ears but she couldn’t hear over the screams of terror in her mind. Her eyes were open but she didn’t see the objects in Mr. Penn’s office. She saw mayhem, death and blood. People screamed for help, babies cried and the rattle of their last breaths filled her ears. Two gloved hands clamped on her wrists. Mr. Parker crouched before her, commanding her to focus on him. His hands squeezed her wrists and the pain brought her out of the waking nightmare.
“Stop.”
Jordan stared at Mr. Parker, uncomprehending. She felt something warm slither over her skin. She looked down at her exposed forearms. Scratches marred her pale skin and blood seeped from a deep slice to curl downward. She stared at her red fingernails and curled them into her palms to hide the evidence of her slipping sanity.
Mr. Parker didn’t say anything as he watched her, still gripping her wrists. Mr. Penn knelt beside Mr. Parker with a first aid kit. The men gave each other a veiled look before Mr. Parker tended her arm. At first she protested and tried to pull away but Mr. Parker gave her a dirty look and she subsided.
“And what the hell is this?” Mr. Parker snapped.
He tugged on the right knee of her jeans which was soaked in blood and pointed at a puncture wound on her forearm. Before Jordan could react, he tugged her jeans up and scowled at her bruised, bloody knee and squeezed when Jordan tried to pull away.
Mr. Parker stood and stared down at the girl who tugged the oversized hat lower over her face and clasped shaking hands in her lap. She was bruised and battered with tiny cuts on her face and her knee ripped to shreds. He let out a curse and ignored Mr. Penn’s satisfied smile
“Get up.”
Jordan rose on quivering legs. Mr. Parker circled her wrist with a large gloved hand and without another word, dragged her out of Mr. Penn’s office. Jordan looked back, eyes wide with alarm and saw Mr. Penn waving, a strange smile on his face.
“I’ll see you soon,” Mr. Penn called after her.
Mr. Parker ignored Margaret Sweeney whose mouth formed an O as they passed. Mr. Parker hauled his limp companion to the opposite end of the hallway to the elevator. He didn’t let go as they waited. Jordan gathered what little courage she had left and looked up. He glared down at her with a grim face.
“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he said.
Jordan didn’t reply. Mr. Parker opened his mouth to say more but the elevator opened with a merry bing. He pulled her in and pressed the down button. The elevator was empty but Jordan tensed in the confined space. She stared at the reflection of herself and Mr. Parker in the steel doors. He stood beside her, finely dressed and intimidating with a pale, ragged teen at his side.
“What happens next?” she whispered.
Mr. Parker met her eyes in the reflection. “I don’t know. This isn’t part of the plan.”
What plan was he following? “Am I going with you?”
There was a moment of silence. As the elevator slid to a smooth stop Jordan saw Mr. Parker’s brusque nod. They stepped out into a small lobby manned by a secretary that watched them with avid curiosity.
“Good day Mr. Parker,” the woman behind the desk said pleasantly.
Mr. Parker said nothing in return but the woman didn’t seem offended. She pressed a button beneath her desk that opened the double set of bulletproof doors that led outside. Mr. Parker didn’t pause or let go of Jordan as they stepped out of the building onto a deserted, grimy sidewalk in an abandoned part of downtown Las Vegas. Jordan took a deep breath as they stepped out into the bright sunshine. She basked in the stifling heat, wishing the warmth would touch her soul.
A husky man wearing Oakley’s, well-worn jeans, scuffed work boots and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up on tanned forearms leaned negligently against a gleaming car. When Mr. Parker dragged Jordan forward, the man straightened and eyed Jordan with raised brows. Mr. Parker ignored the blatant curiosity and opened the back door of the car for her. When Jordan hesitated Mr. Parker let out an impatient sound and she slid into the backseat. To her immense relief Mr. Parker rode shotgun.
The man in flannel got into the driver’s side. “Where to?”
“Back to the airstrip,” Mr. Parker said.
In some distant part of Jordan’s mind she knew she should be alarmed but at the moment she couldn’t find the will to care. Away, was all she could think. Take me away from him, as far as you can.
“So you found out what Penn wanted?”
The driver paused to let a homeless man push his wagon filled with all his possessions across the street. Despite the sunglasses, Jordan knew the driver was examining her in the rearview mirror.
“Yes,” Mr. Parker said.
There was no sound in the car except for the cool flow of the air conditioning. Not even five minutes into the drive, Jordan put her head against the glass and faded.
Chapter Four
Jordan woke to the sound of a sharp rap on glass. She opened her eyes to see the driver peering at her through the car window. Automatically, she pulled the bill of her hat low before she stepped out of the car. She looked around, exhausted mind slow to process where she was.
She and the driver stood on a runway lined with white, unmarked jets. There was a high fence enclosing the runway that was so near the Strip she could see the gleaming gold of the Mandalay Bay hotel in the distance. The highway beyond the fence combined with the rev of one of the jets made it hard to hear anything.
On the runway, official looking people wearing black slacks, crisp white shirts and official looking badges walked briskly. Jordan was alarmed when she saw several police officers walkin
g amongst the airport workers. Her immediate thought was that Mr. Parker was going to hand her into their custody but none of the officers glanced her way. That was when she realized that Mr. Parker was nowhere to be found.
“He’s taking care of a few things,” the driver said, yelling above the roar of the planes.
Jordan looked sharply at him and then away, ashamed that she was so transparent. She blamed it on her weariness and the fear that lingered. The driver’s eyes stayed on her as she wandered away from him. She walked up to an impressive jet and ran a hand over the under belly of the hot, smooth metal. When she turned back Mr. Parker stood beside the driver. The contrast between the two men was night and day. Mr. Parker looked like a New York businessman while the driver wouldn’t have been out of place on a construction site or truck stop. Jordan found herself relaxing and immediately berated herself for putting any amount of trust in Mr. Parker. She heard from his own mouth that he wanted nothing to do with her. She shouldn’t feel safe in his presence but for the moment she would take comfort in anything as long as she wasn’t heading back to Haven.
As Jordan made eye contact, Mr. Parker’s mouth compressed and he turned away. He walked up a short set of stairs and ducked into an unmarked plane. The driver followed without a backward glance. Jordan looked around the small, busy airstrip and then at the distant hotels lining the Strip. What next?
“Ma’am?”
A flight attendant beckoned from the steps of the plane. For a long moment Jordan debated on making a run for it. And where would she go? Jordan walked across the hot cement and took one last look at the Strip before she entered the plane. On either sides of the aisle were four individual white seats facing one another with a white table between them.
