AN: Hello, my dears!

I probably should've mentioned this in my chapter one author's note, but the title "When the Spies Come Home" is supposed to be a play on words, much like what Ally Carter does for her book titles. IDK if y'all have heard the country idiom "when the cows come home", but I thought it was fortuitous that that saying is so farm-y and that Cammie comes home in this story (in a sense). Do you get it? *winks and lightly elbows you in the ribs* I thought it was clever, which sounds conceited, but I rarely like my titles, so I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back for this one. That said, the actual meaning of the idiom itself has little to do with this story. Sorry.

Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns Zach, Cammie, and the Gallagher Girls universe in which this story takes place.

Happy reading!

Zach's POV

Cammie barely threw the car into park before she was out the door and running toward a scene that even I would call crazy, and that was coming from a guy who'd watched the director of the CIA and the chief of MI6 settle a disagreement with an honest to goodness sword fight.

From what I could tell, a horse was having a standoff with a bull, and neither were very happy. The horse was bucking and kicking and stomping, and the bull was pawing at the ground as if it was about to charge. And on that ground were a bunch of chickens who were either very ballsy or very stupid because they were running around and between the legs of the two giant animals like this was all a fun game of…well, chicken.

An elderly man and woman were also tangled up in the mix. The woman was trying to shoo or collect the chickens, and the man was attempting to calm the horse down enough to slip a halter on him. Neither were making much headway.

Then there was Cammie. I'd been taking everything in, so I hadn't noticed how she was inserting herself into the situation. But, of course, I shouldn't have been surprised to find her taking on the most dangerous job. Somehow, she'd found a rope and was nearing the angry two-ton animal with the pointy horns protruding from its head.

I cursed, jumped out of the car, and ran after her.

"Cammie, no!" I shouted.

Cammie's head spun to me and her eyes widened. She tried to wave me off, but it was too late. The bull did not appreciate my loud approach. His nostrils flared wide, he lowered his head, then he bolted, charging at the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to run at a bull.

I stopped and cursed again. Blackthorne had taught me many useful things, like how to disarm bombs, shoot a sniper rifle, and speak Bengali, but I'd never taken a class on what to do when one is being charged at by a huge bull.

Cammie was still closer to the bull when she screamed, "Zach!" and jumped between the two of us, waving her arms and rope around as much as possible. The bull must've decided she was the bigger threat because it forgot about me and charged at Cammie.

"Run, Gallagher Girl!"

She didn't run. She just continued to wave her rope around like a crazy woman till finally she released it, and the knotted loop of a lasso circled the bull's neck.

But the bull wasn't hindered by some rope, and it was just about to ram into Cammie when a blur tackled her out of the way.

The bull, having missed his target, threw his head back in anger and swung around for round two. But the old man was already picking up the end of the rope Cammie had gotten around its neck and tying it to the metal gate of some small, circular pen. The bull yanked on the rope a few times before deciding we weren't worth its time and found solace in the fresh grass under his hooves.

The horse had apparently calmed down and was being led away by the old woman. The danger was over, and I released a breath of relief, grateful that Cammie was okay.

At least I thought she was okay…until I saw the man on top of her.

AN: Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter! Your prize is my love and appreciation! Please feel free to leave a helpful critique or encouraging comment!

I know I left this chapter on a small cliff hanger, and I'm sort of almost a little bit sorry. Kind of...see y'all next week:):)

Much love, Rachel