Betcha thought I was dead.
Well, joke's on you.
Let's start writing again, shall we?
This is dedicated to all the people
who are actually still going to read my stuff
even after I have let them down
time after time
after time
after time.
Also, Ally Carter. You did the hard stuff,
so I can dilly dally in fan fiction.
Go you!
This is another preview from the prologue
(which will have 2 or 3 parts).
This particular scene happens
before both this story and Morgan Goode.
Hopefully this means the rest is coming soon.
And by soon I mean in a couple days,
rather than a couple years.
Enjoy, and tell me whatcha think.
Happy reading!
Life was calm.
Or, as calm as a national operative's life could be.
Sure, there were plenty of people
who still wanted to kill her,
on a regular basis.
There were still corrupt dignitaries,
and underground terrorist cells
that had to be taken care of.
But, things were calm,
normal.
At least,
Cammie Morgan,
considered things calm,
normal.
And, it was around then,
that she woke up.
immediately noticing the one thing
that didn't belong in the hotel room in Belize.
Cammie Morgan lifted her head.
Zach's bed was empty,
and his things were neatly packed.
They were supposed to be on a plane in an hour
back to headquarters,
back home.
And, though Cammie had every intention
of stealing as much sleep as she could
before take off, 5:00am central time.
the pesky item sitting pretty
on the once clear nightstand
made sure she didn't sleep another wink.
The room was dead bolted
twice.
and booby-trapped at the window
and the door,
and the single air vent.
So, there was no way
anyone broke in and placed it there.
And, Cammie knew every shirt,
every shoe, every pair of jeans
Zachary Goode owned.
And, the something on the nightstand
wasn't a shirt,
or a shoe,
or anything he would normally pack for a trip
to neutralize a homicidal threat in Central America.
So, Cammie Morgan blamed her curious nature
and her knack to long to know everything,
all the facts in front of her,
all the possibilities in her reach
she mostly blamed her father's genes
when she blurted out,
"What's this?"
She squinted into the light and steam swirling out of the
little hotel bathroom while the figure inside
didn't even turn her direction.
But, it was just like Zachary Goode
to know exactly what she was talking about
and still say,
"Looks like a box."
"It's not mine.
"Yes it is."
He said finally looking at her,
the steam clearing.
He dried his hair with a towel as he watched
Cammie lift her eyebrow
and open it.
"It's a ring."
"Good job," He hid a grin.
"It's huge."
"Yup." He said, sticking a toothbrush in his mouth.
Cameron Morgan sat up almost wondering if
she had just caught one of the best spies she had ever known
in, like, the worst lie ever told in the history of the universe
And, spies lie.
everyday.
all the time.
for a freaking living.
So, there was absolutely no way
he could have been serious.
"This isn't mine, Zach" She sighed,
"I would remember buying this."
"Sure." He replied,
"But you don't, do you?"
Cammie Morgan wouldn't deny it.
She was clearly thinking what every girlfriend
would be thinking when a velvet box appears
out of thin air.
Of course she'd thought about it before.
A lot.
Of course she kind of sort of really
really wanted it to happen.
But, Zach wasn't the marrying kind.
Well, at least, that's what he'd like you to think
But, the cat was out of the bag.
Cammie got out of her bed and concluded.
"Because you bought it."
Zach spit into the sink,
then said "Bingo."
"How long have you had this?"
Cammie stepped closer,
examining the ring, genuinely concerned about the fact that,
though she truly sort of wished for a piece of jewelry as such,
she totally didn't see this coming.
Which was a problem,
especially for someone who's had almost nine years
of intense training/experience in covert operations.
It was her job to see,
to know.
So, she was kind of sort of really really surprised when he
slipped on a t-shirt to go with his jeans
and said,
"About a year or two" He thought about it
like he didn't know the number to the minute.
"Or three."
So.
Okay, yeah.
Not to be cocky or anything,
but in order to keep something hidden from
the Cameron Morgan (or any of the highly trained
operatives she called her best friends) for that long,
he must have kept the little box in a titanium safe
rigged with the world's latest security system
buried thirty feet underground
in Cambodia.
And, even with all of those,
he would still only get away with it,
because she told herself she wasn't looking for it.
He turned to her as she crinkled her eyebrows,
and took a look around the room.
It's not like it was a five star hotel.
It was maybe a two.
Because if a CIA authorized
safe house was going to pose as
a shabby hotel off of the city streets in Belize,
then it needed to commit to the part.
And, oh, did it ever.
The air conditioner didn't work.
The window was way too close to the highway.
But, everything else was pretty ordinary,
pretty normal.
And, across the way and down the hall,
there were twenty something more rooms
exactly like it.
So, maybe it was the normality,
the commonality of it all,
maybe it was her pajama pants
or his wrinkled t-shirt
maybe it was the harmless hum of early morning traffic
or the gentle drip of the faucet
or Agent Townsend's softer-than-usual snoring
as he snoozed on the sofa bed
maybe it was the fact that neither Cameron Morgan,
nor Zachary Goode had ever been normal
a day in their lives
and maybe it was because of that reason,
Cammie actually found it all comforting,
peaceful even.
All of that, actually, was probably why
Cammie felt pretty weird when
she turned back to Zach
and asked,
"Is this a proposal?"
He shrugged, stepping past her,
packing away the last of his belongings
"I figured it just makes more sense."
"One water bill. One electric bill."
He zipped his suit case shut,
"We could carpool."
"So, you're asking for my hand in marriage…"
She crossed her arms and cocked her head,
and honestly, bit her lip,
trying her very best to hold back a smile.
"To save money?"
"To save the planet," He corrected,
tucking a spare sock into the front pocket.
Then he stepped toward her
and he smirked.
"Go green," he said.
He took the box from her,
held the ring up so it caught the sunrise
through the dirt-covered windows.
Then he took a breath,
as if somehow, in some parallel universe
Agent Zachary Goode, one of the most
fearless and most lethal of operatives,
was sort of kind of
really really nervous.
"What do you say, Gallagher Girl?"
He softly grinned at her,
even with her puffy eyes,
bedhead, and all.
"Want to save the world with me?"