So here you go, the sequel to "Truth or Dare GallagherBlackthorne Style". Hope it was worth the wait(:

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except for the story line (:

CPOV

I awoke to darkness, a pitch black world without even a speckle of light. To make the situation even worse, my hands were tied behind the chair.

"Well, it's nice to see u finally decided to wake up. You sleep like the dead," greeted someone in a snarky voice. Their face remained a mystery, the darkness making it impossible to see their face or features.

"Yeah well, when you knock someone out, that tends to happen," I replied.

"Shut up spy, or pretty soon you won't just sleep like the dead, you will be dead," the person snapped.

"Spy? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, I think you may have inhaled some of that knock out gas too," I lied calmly, "Because you see to be talking crazy, I'm not a spy. This isn't some James Bond movie you know, this is the real world."

The person (I think it was a woman but I'm not really sure) made an annoyed sound, and muttered, "Gallagher always trained the most annoying spies. At least the FBI don't train bratty little teenagers to do their dirty work."

"You are seriously one crazy whack-job," I commented in a disinterested tone, inside however, I was anything but. Questions ran through my mind one after the other. How did she know about Gallagher? We were a spy school so secretive, that most agencies had only heard rumors about us. And how did she know that we train teenagers like me? If there was one thing that we had learned throughout training it was to never leak that secret. Having teenagers working for us provided us with a nice cover, no one would suspect a seventeen year old of knowing national secrets.

"And you are about to be dead unless you tell us what you know." Well, at least she got right to the point.

"I don't know anything about you or this spy crap, so can you please—"

"I said be quiet," she snarled, "I'm tired of your lies, I know everything about you, Cameron Morgan."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken again, I don't know who Cameron Morgan is, my name is Karri Smith, I was just hanging out at the mall when I was kidnapped." You see, the thing about spies is that we're stubborn, we hold onto our covers like our lives depended on it, which it usually is.

"Is that what you want us to believe? That you're just an innocent kid? Well tell me Karri, why do you have this?" She held something up, shining a light on the object, which turned out to be my Beretta Stampede. Crap, not only does she know I was armed, that was also my favorite gun. Old design for a gun, I know, but it was given to me by my Aunt Abby.

Well, when plan A fails, time for plan B, which was to distract them long enough to cut the rope with the pocket knife I had hidden in the sole of my shoe, then grab the other revolver I had hidden in a holster underneath my jeans. Obviously her men didn't do a very good job of disarming me. "Fine you caught me," I said, scooting my foot back toward my hands until I could reach the hidden compartment. One good thing about being in a dark room with no light is that while I can't see them, they can't see me either. "So what are you going to do now?" Finally, I felt the odd hole in my shoe, which indicated that that was where the knife was. "Use me as bait? Kill me? Torture me until I tell you what I know? Cook me and serve me up for dinner?" I wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying, I was just trying to make noise so that the sound of knife coming out wasn't heard. Quickly, I felt around the edge of the sole, near the hole, until I felt the handle of the knife, barely sticking out. I pulled out the knife silently and began to work on cutting the rope, and as it was unavoidable, my arm too. But as it turned out, I didn't need to, because just as I had finally cut through the rope, I heard a lot of banging and crashing and cursing, and then the lights came on. The timing was perfect, and I used it to my advantage, tackling the person standing and knocking him to the floor.

"Oh, hey Gallagher Girl," greeted a familiar voice.

"Zach?" I looked down at the guy beneath me, and sure enough, a familiar face stared back at me.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Sight-seeing, no you idiot, I'm rescuing you, what does it look like I'm doing? Your friends here put up a good fight, but their moves were amateurish at best." He gestured to the area around us, and I finally noticed the unconscious bodies littered on the floor around us. I counted five males, no females, in other words the women who held me captive had escaped.

"Are they dead?"

"Nope, I know better than to do something as stupid as that, no they're just knocked out, most of them will have a killer headache by the time they wake up," He grinned as if what he did was so impressive, I rolled my eyes. "I found this, by the way." He nodded to his side, where my Beretta laid on the floor beside him.

I beamed at him, "Thank you."

His smile lost its cockiness for a second and when he smiled at me it was like I was seeing the real Zach, the sweet one who knew me better than I knew myself. "You're welcome, now as much as I enjoy this position, would you please get off of me?"

"Fine." I stood up off of him, reaching a hand down to help him off, and instantly regretted it when he flipped me and pinned me to the floor.

"Now I'm happy," he said, grinning and getting off.

"Jerk," I muttered, using my hand to brush the dirt off of my back.

Zach, who had been smiling, entirely too pleased with himself, suddenly froze. "What happened to your arm?"

I looked down at my arm, which now had fairly deep cuts layering down the bottom half of my wrist from the knife. Blood was still flowing out fairly fast. "Nothing, it was just one of the side effects of my attempt to cut through the rope."

His tense posture visibly relaxed, "Good, because if they hurt you, I might change my mind about the whole 'leaving them alive' thing." I smiled at him, knowing that what he said was dangerous, feelings shouldn't affect our judgement, yet pleased about his comment, and was shocked when he took his shirt off, handing it to me. I froze at the sight of him shirtless. He had nice abs (an eight pack) and his shoulders were nice and broad, with arms bulky (but not steroid bulky) with muscles. In other words, he was hot, really hot, but running down his chest was a scar about six inches long. "Wrap this around your arms," he instructed, interrupting my staring.

"What? Oh." I took the outstretched shirt and wrapped it around my arms mindlessly, still dazed.

His grin broadened, "See something you like?"

I glared at him, my face flushing, "You wish, I was just wondering about the scar."

"That? Oh, it was nothing."

"What happened?"

He sighed, "I told you, it was nothing, my mom got pissed at me one day and came at me with a knife. Nothing major." The words sounded nonchalant, but if you listened a little closer, you could hear the emotions behind them.

"That must've sucked," I murmured, ignoring his attempt at closing the subject.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he shrugged as if it was nothing, but I could see the muscles tense.

"What a liar," I whispered, running my finger along the scar, he closed his eyes at my touch and groaned, making me smile. I loved that I had this effect on him. "Forget it Cammie," I scolded myself, "This isn't the time for such thoughts."

I snapped out of my daze, quickly removing my finger. Zach opened his eyes clearly confused as to why I'd pulled away, in response I asked, "So are we going or are we going to wait for the rest of the baddies to come? Because as much as I love a good fight, Macey, Bex, and Liz are probably worried, were supposed to be shopping, but when I saw the Circle of Cavan symbol on that woman, I followed her."

"Without back up? Yeah that was smart, you know that I'm only a phone call away when you need me, Cammie," Zach chastised softly, the fear that I might do this again and get myself hurt, prominent in his eyes.

"I'm fine Zach, I promise," I murmured, leaning up to kiss him softly to prove my point. He kissed me back gently, savoring it, savoring the fact that, for now, we were both alright.

So like it? Leave a review for me, please? Pretty please? It encourages me to write(: The more reviews I get, the faster I'll update (probably), but regardless of how many reviews I get I'll do my best to update regularly, but still, PLEASE REVIEW 3