Reborn by Melody Anne

Chapter Two

Courtney Tucker was a tiger. She knew that for sure because she’d taken the Facebook quiz that told users what type of animal they were once they finished the questions, and it had defined Courtney as a tiger.

Okay, okay, she wasn’t counting on a stupid social media quiz to define who she was, she was counting on herself to know she was a warrior in the jungle of life.

Since the age of five she’d wanted to be a reporter. She’d started by interviewing her parents, and then she’d branched out to kids in her neighborhood, and then to their parents. She’d gotten one of those karaoke microphones for Christmas that year, and much to her parents amusement, she hadn’t once sung into it, instead she’d placed the device directly in the face of anyone who came near her and she’d shouted questions.

Her parents had believed it would just be a phase. They’d been wrong.

Her passion for reporting had only grown from that moment forward. When she’d been eight she’d solved a crime in her neighborhood. Once a week on different nights for three months, the Kolinskis had woken up to find their garbage can had been turned upside down and placed on their lawn with four of their garden gnomes atop it.

The Kolinskis had over a hundred garden gnomes, and each night it was a different set of four placed in varying poses over the ugly green can. They reported the crime to the cops, but the authorities hadn’t been too worried about what looked to be a harmless prank. They’d then asked the entire neighborhood to keep an eye out for the culprit. But without rhyme or reason to the time or day the can would be placed, the culprits hadn’t been caught.

Courtney had decided she’d solve the mystery. By that time, she’d owned many investigative materials since that was all she’d ever requested for her birthday and Christmas. Her parents had told her they weren’t too sure if they wanted to get her more items since she’d fingerprinted all of them, interviewed them with their hands tied to chairs, and even busted through their bedroom door, thankfully without anything happening at that moment, and told them she was on a breaking news story. She’d then proceeded to grill them about the temperature of the house and what made them choose that particular degree.

Courtney truly was a tiger. She didn’t stop until she had her story, and if that meant she’d get her hands dirty and do those things other reporters were unwilling to do, then that’s what she’d do. It had gotten her far in life. She might not be working for one of the major news outlets, but she chose that so she could be independent and not beholden to anyone telling her what she was allowed to report on.

She smiled as she thought about the Kolinskis who’d awarded her with homemade pies, a real lie detector kit, and a real White House Press badge they’d found on eBay. She still had all of those items, except for the pies of course. She’d spent two weeks camping out on her front porch at different times of the night. She’d have slept there if her parents would’ve allowed her to do so, but they weren’t quite that open. She’d watched through her bedroom window until her eyes were blurry and she’d paced the sidewalk until her parents had again made her come inside.

And then, bam! She’d caught the culprit. She’d instantly become the neighborhood hero. It had happened at one in the morning. She’d woken up with her face buried in her arms as she’d leaned against her bedroom window. She’d heard a sound outside and her heart had accelerated as she raced down her staircase and quietly opened her front door.

Courtney had full-blown run from her front porch straight at the neighbor’s yard, too worried about missing the action if she slowed down, to be afraid of any sort of danger she might be leaping into. She’d come to a screeching halt when she’d seen Mr. Wilson, their eighty-year-old neighbor, placing a second gnome atop the garbage can he’d already tipped over. He placed the gnome, then moved over to the garden area and looked around for several moments before he grabbed another.

“Mr. Wilson?” she’d called, but he didn’t even jump. He just kept on with his task. Courtney hadn’t really known what to do at that point. She’d stood there a few more seconds when she noticed her front porch light flick on and the door fly open. Her father barreled down the steps wearing only a pair of boxers, with hearts and arrows all over them, and a panicked expression.

“Dad,” Courtney called. Her father halted, his head whipping in her direction. The panic turned into relief as he rushed to her and grabbed her up, squeezing her so hard she couldn’t breathe for a second.

“You foolish little girl. You just about gave your old man a heart attack,” her father said. “I heard the door open and close, and I knew you were looking for the neighborhood bandit. Do you even know how dangerous this is?” he asked, chastising her and still squeezing her so tight she could barely get air to reply.

“Dad, look,” she gasped.

He must’ve finally realized how tight he was holding her, because his iron grip loosened just a tad as he shifted to look in the direction she was pointing.

“Is that Mr. Wilson?” her father asked, obviously tired since he’d been woken in the middle of the night. It was exactly the middle for him since he was up and ready to go every morning by five AM, even on Sundays. Her father loved routine. Courtney was sure that’s where she’d developed the habit.

“Yes, and I called out to him, but he acted like he couldn’t hear me,” Courtney said.

As they watched, Mr. Wilson placed the fourth gnome on top of the garbage can, looked down at his creation, then turned and walked across the street to his house, stepping inside and disappearing.

“That was about the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” her father said.

“What should we do?” Courtney asked.

“Nothing tonight. We’ll talk to Mr. Wilson and Mr. Kolinski in the morning,” her father said.

The next day they did just that, and then found out that Mr. Wilson was in the middle stages of dementia and he was sleepwalking. He had zero recollection of his ritual. His wife had been horrified to find out that he was sneaking out of the house, fearing for his safety. She’d been hoping his medical condition wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it was. She decided it was time to move to an assisted living facility where her husband could get more help than what she was able to give him.

Courtney had been hailed a hero, and she’d known she’d report on stories for the rest of her life, and not only do that, but solve crimes as well. Since that middle-of-the-night case, she’d been taking charge, kicking ass, and building a career she was incredibly proud of.

Currently, Courtney had been kidnapped by none other than Jon Eisenhart, who was about the sexiest soldier she’d ever had the pleasure of interviewing. From the moment he’d first walked up to her back in Germany she’d been in lust. She’d also known the man was a true playboy and broke a lot of hearts without bothering to take names. That didn’t diminish the fact that he was good on the eyes. She didn’t mind taking all the looks she could at the man.

“Jon, you might as well tell me what in the world is going on,” Courtney said. He’d saved her life about thirty minutes earlier, then walked her back to her vehicle.

She’d thanked him when he’d dropped her off, then she’d watched him walk away before she’d turned from her vehicle and began heading back toward the fire. She waited then immediately backtracked trying to go back to the fire. He’d been around the corner, and he hadn’t been happy, accusation flaring in his eyes and his arms crossed over his impressive chest.

He’d immediately confiscated the keys to her car and told her to get into the vehicle, saying some nonsense about women being a whole hell of a lot of trouble. She’d been firing questions at him from that moment on, and he’d been ignoring her. She just smiled. She always got her story and if Jon thought he could outlast her, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

“I’m trying to figure out where to take you so you don’t get yourself killed,” Jon said as he continued driving.

“I don’t back down from a story, Jon. I’ll stay away from the warehouse if you let me interview you,” she told him. He let out a long sigh.

“No to both,” he told her.

“That’s unacceptable.” She crossed her arms and smiled. She’d learned over the years that she could get a lot further in life with honey rather than with vinegar. Even if she wanted to roll her eyes or glare at someone, she normally forced herself to smile and help them feel at ease. That had broken more than a few reluctant people.

“Brackish, she’s not backing down,” Jon said, confusing Courtney for a second. Then her smile grew as she realized he was wearing an earpiece. She practically bounced in her seat, feeling as if she was on a super-secret spy movie-like mission. A little secrecy and a hell of a lot of danger was a very good day in Courtney’s honest opinion.

Jon nodded as if the person was speaking back to him. He pulled into a driveway, then turned the vehicle around, and they started moving back in the direction they’d just come from. Were they headed back to the fire? No, he’d never do that. It killed her a bit that she had no idea where they were going or what was coming next. She’d soon find out.

“Who are you talking to?” Courtney asked. “And why? And really, Jon? Did you honestly think I’d back down? I didn’t become this good at my job by cowering or accepting it when reluctant people don’t want to answer easy questions.” She was good at confusing people or throwing so much at them that it sometimes jumbled their brains enough for them to slip out some key information. She’d just push and push and push until she broke them. She had a feeling it would take a hell of a high mountain and a long drop to push Jon that far.

“No, Courtney, no one would ever accuse you of backing down from a story,” Jon said with a chuckle. “And you might as well call me Eyes. You’re about to hear it over and over again,” he finished. He suddenly seemed more relaxed. She knew something had shifted in his brief conversation.

“I heard that name back in Germany,” Courtney said. “You never did tell me why it’s your call sign.” She knew all about military names. She’d interviewed a lot of soldiers and a lot of them went by their military names long after their time in the service was over. They wore that name like a badge. It was a badge, in reality, one they’d truly earned.

Eyes smiled. Now that he’d given her permission to use the name, it felt natural to think of him as Eyes, especially when she thought about why he was called that. She liked anything that was out of the ordinary.

“I got the name because I have eyes in the back of my head, in my ears, even on my feet. I see all no matter where I’m at or what position I’m in,” he told her with a wink. “I’ve always been able to assess a situation much faster than even the brightest soldiers, and that’s because I pay attention.”

“Me too. I don’t think it’s plausible to go into a career like mine without looking in all directions at all times,” Courtney told him. “Who’s Brackish?”

“He’s the man who just cleared you. It looks as if you’re going to get your story after all,” Eyes told her.

Courtney had to force herself not to bounce up and down in her seat at Eyes’s words. She knew that any story he was about to tell was going to be worth hearing, and even more importantly, worth writing about. This was the type of story she’d pursue for months with a lot of sleepless nights because it could lead to a Pulitzer.

“How did he clear me? Who is he?” she pushed. She wanted to drain every last trace of information from Eyes before she met anybody else. Sometimes when she was with multiple people she never got back to her original questions she’d come in with for the first person. That always frustrated her, but even the best of the best couldn’t make time slow down or add more hours to the day. Sometimes she simply ran out of time. She didn’t like to waste any of her precious hours, so multitasking became one of her many talents.

“Apparently you’ve been working for Joseph Anderson,” Eyes said, shocking her. It was rare for anyone to do that.

“Yes, but I thought nobody was supposed to know. How did you find out?” she asked. There was no point in lying to him. It wasn’t as if he could guess something like that without some valid information.

“When you meet Brackish you’ll understand there isn’t much we miss,” Eyes said with a laugh. He turned off the road into a spot she wouldn’t have noticed was a driveway. It was deceptively set back and covered. Only if you were really looking you could see it, otherwise it would go unnoticed.

“Are you spying on Joseph?” she gasped. That wouldn’t be smart. That man had more power and influence than anybody Courtney had ever met — and she’d met some pretty influential people in her career. She might only be thirty-one, but she considered her career had started at five years old so that was a solid twenty-six years beneath her belt.

Eyes chuckled. “Yes, we spy on Joseph,” he told her. “It’s become a game between him and Brackish.” He waved his hand in the air as if that was yesterday’s news. “However, this time, Joseph gave us permission to know. He said it’s time we work together. We’re at the end of this operation and he wants to bring it all home with a big bang, making Independence Day look like a sparkler compared to a hydrogen bomb.”

“What operation?” Courtney fired off. Now she was getting somewhere.

“I guess you’re about to find out,” Eyes told her.

Suddenly, there was a flashing light in front of them, and then their vehicle screeched to a halt as a siren sounded, making Courtney jump as the car was surrounded by giant metal poles shooting from the ground. She and Eyes turned to each other at the same time, both of them looking suspicious.

“Do you have a bomb on you?” Eyes gasped as his eyes traveled from her head to her toes.

Courtney shifted in her seat as she turned away from him. How in the world would he suspect she had anything on her? And what had just happened to their vehicle?

“What’s going on, Eyes?” she asked instead of answering. She was really good at not answering a question by firing off one of her own.

“Seriously, Courtney, what do you have on you?” Eyes pushed. “I didn’t think I needed to pat you down.” She couldn’t tell by his tone if he was irritated or impressed. Since she found herself quite impressive, she decided to go that route.

She reached into the fanny pack resting at her hip and pulled out a small handgun. “I go into some sketchy places sometimes and I’m always prepared,” she told him with a shrug.

“With a gun?” he asked as he held out his hand, demanding she turn over the sidearm.

“I’m not letting you have this,” she told him, pulling it back toward her.

He paused and nodded, and she figured this Brackish person he’d spoken to earlier was now whispering in his ear again.

“Yeah, apparently Courtney likes to keep herself well-armed,” Eyes said. “I’m about to apprehend it. Yeah, it’s a Sig Sauer, looks like a 365. Do you detect anything else?” Another pause. “Good. I guess it’s true you never really know a person until you go through a state-of-the-art surveillance system together.” He chuckled at something the man on the other end of the line said. “Ten-four.”

He then turned to Courtney. “Hand over the pistol and then Brackish will release us from this cage,” he said.

“Will I get it back?”

“Probably, but only after we’re leaving later tonight,” he promised.

“Okay, that’s good enough for me,” Courtney said as she handed over the device she’d never had to use before. She’d come close, and she’d been in some sticky situations, but never to the point that she felt the need to pull her gun. Tonight had happened too quickly for her to get to it.

As soon as the device was out of her possession the long metal bars began retreating back into the earth. Soon, they were moving forward again. It didn’t take long for them to come around a bend where a massive building stood before them. Eyes stopped the car, and Courtney watched as two men headed their way, seeming to appear out of nowhere.

As soon as they exited the vehicle, Eyes slid the pistol into one of the many hidden pockets on his chest. She hoped Eyes kept his promise of returning it or maybe replacing it with something better.

“This is the operation center. You might want to call the other ladies on your team. It’s time for all of us to talk,” Eyes said.

Courtney grinned at the man who was far too good looking to be unleashed on the general public. It was a good thing she could appreciate beauty without getting all shifty and brainless like a lot of females out there. “Oh yes, it’s long past time,” she said, feeling better than she did on Christmas morning. She lifted her phone. The fun truly was about to begin.