Birthright

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 the jet engines 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 walking 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 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 relaxed slightly, comforted by his appearance and then 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 side of the aisle were four individual white seats facing one another with a white table between them. 

Even as Jordan started down the aisle the driver asked, “Who is she?”

Mr. Parker muttered, “Her name’s Jordan.”

She stopped in the aisle but neither man looked at her. Mr. Parker had a laptop on the table and the driver sat beside him with his head tipped back as if he were ready to take a nap. When neither man showed signs of direction she turned to take a seat across the aisle.

“You’re sitting over here,” Mr. Parker said without looking up from his laptop. 

She stood immobile until he looked up. He jerked his head at the seat across from him. A long silence passed before she dropped into the chair. Without another word Mr. Parker returned his attention to the laptop. 

“We dropping her off somewhere?” the man in flannel asked as if Jordan wasn’t sitting right across from him. 

Mr. Parker squinted at his laptop screen. “No.”

The driver straightened and pushed his Oakley’s up, revealing the strangest set of eyes Jordan had ever seen. He had orange eyes the color of autumn leaves and brown hair with bleached tips like a surfer as if he spent too much time in the sun.