The ship continued its voyage, and the cargo hold gradually became stuffy. Perhaps the American dollars had worked their magic because the bearded captain did not overly restrict their freedom. Occasionally, they were even allowed to go up on deck for some fresh air.
The cargo ship made a stop in Guatemala, but none of them disembarked. They obediently hid in the cabin until the ship set sail again before reappearing.
The Rangers had a habit of drinking whenever they had nothing else to do. No one knew how much alcohol Wright had packed in his backpack—gin, rum, tequila, vodka—he always seemed to have a bottle on hand, and the group would take turns downing it.
Owen and Monica had just confirmed their relationship and were in the passionate early stages of love, sticking together whenever possible.
At first, they could use Monica's recent rescue as an excuse, but gradually, the rest of the SWAT team started noticing something was off. The two of them constantly found reasons to go up to the deck together—definitely suspicious.
Deeply immersed in their new romance, the couple eagerly created as many private moments as possible, blissfully unaware that their clumsy attempts at secrecy had long been noticed by the others.
Having been influenced by countless romantic movies, Owen racked his brain for the perfect romantic setting.
At this moment, his mind was like an open cheat code for romance films. Countless scenes flashed through his head, and after careful selection, he decided on one. Then, he took Monica to the ship's bow, striking various poses.
The sea breeze blew gently, seagulls soared in the sky, their cries echoing above.
Monica stood at the very front of the cargo ship, arms outstretched, eyes closed, recreating the most iconic scene from Titanic. Owen stood close behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as the two quietly enjoyed the wind against their faces.
Yes, this shameless man had outright plagiarized Titanic for his own romantic benefit. While a similar event had occurred in this timeline, there was no tragic love story attached to it. Owen was willing to do whatever it took for his love.
"Jack..."
"Rose..."
"You jump, I jump..."
Mmm...
Their fingers intertwined, and their lips met. Overcome with emotion, Monica turned back and took the initiative to kiss him. As it turns out, no matter how cliché a love story is, it still holds nuclear-level power over a woman's heart.
First base—achieved!
Mmm...
Owen savored Monica's lips. Unlike their kiss in the drug lord's compound, this time there was no urgency—he could take his time, truly experiencing the moment.
Just as the two were completely lost in their passion, an irritated voice suddenly rang out.
"Oh, dear God, look what I've found… This CTU bastard is secretly hooking up with our FBI goddess!"
The unexpected voice startled them. Jolted back to reality, they turned around to see Ash, Fever, and Heartbeat standing behind them, watching with amused expressions.
Ash had a mischievous grin on his face, while Fever looked downright betrayed. It was obvious he was the one who had just made that incredibly salty comment, his jealousy practically dripping off of him. Heartbeat, on the other hand, simply looked entertained, as if watching a great show.
Owen and Monica had never intended to hide their relationship, but neither did they see the need to make a grand announcement. Now that they'd been caught, they simply walked down from the railing, still holding hands.
"Owen, when did you manage to win Monica over? My God, you two should be actors—we didn't even notice a thing!"
Ash teased with a smirk. Fever, standing beside him, playfully punched Owen on the shoulder. "Damn you, man, I challenge you to a duel!"
Owen burst into laughter. He knew that many of the SWAT guys had at least some level of interest in Monica. After all, she had every trait of a goddess—beautiful face, alluring figure, long legs, mesmerizing eyes…
Her only "flaw" was her overly competitive nature. She always had to be the best at everything. Compared to her, Fever, Campbell, and Nicholas—who were all outstanding in their own right—still felt somewhat inadequate and never dared to take a step forward.
Adding to that, Monica's personality wasn't as warm and open as the typical American girl. She never gave any man special attention, which kept the suitors at bay.
Even so, that didn't stop men from gossiping about her. Back when Owen was still in SWAT, these guys would often gather and talk about Monica in their free time.
Just like how college dorm conversations often revolved around the prettiest girls in class—some things were universal across the world.
But, sorry, guys—I got there first.
Owen mentally gave himself a victory sign but kept his laughter lighthearted, making sure not to rub it in too much.
Monica, however, was completely unbothered. She simply stated the truth, "It hasn't been long. We only started when we were at Brancato's compound."
"The compound? Why there? Was it because this guy came to rescue you? Come on, we were all there! He just happened to be the first one you saw!"
Fever looked as if he had just lost a winning lottery ticket, his face filled with exaggerated regret. Owen knew he was joking—Fever never even had the courage to confess to Monica.
Of course, even if he had, he would've been hit with the ultimate nice guy rejection. No way he could compete with someone as handsome as Owen.
"Oh, so it's the classic 'hero saves the beauty' trope, huh?"
Heartbeat chimed in, purely out of spite. He had no romantic interest in Monica—he was just annoyed that his partner now had an amazing girlfriend while he was still single.
The group continued teasing and complaining, with Fever even threatening to inform Campbell so they could form an alliance against Owen. In the end, Owen had no choice but to promise to treat everyone to a big meal once they were back in Los Angeles, finally pacifying them.
The ship continued its journey for another two days before arriving back in the U.S. Sam had planned everything well—this cargo ship's final destination was Los Angeles.
At the dock, Sam had already arranged for vehicles. The group said their goodbyes and drove off.
Owen's ride was an old, beat-up Ford—clearly a stolen car Sam had set up for them, the kind you could dump without a second thought.
Still basking in the glow of new love, Owen and Monica naturally didn't want to part ways just yet. Owen drove her home, going as slowly as possible, but eventually, they arrived.
Because of the previous attack, Monica's front door had been broken down. The police had come by afterward but had only secured it temporarily with some tape before leaving.
Owen followed Monica inside as she untied the tape. The interior remained exactly as they had left it—bullet holes in the walls, shattered objects still scattered across the floor.
Seeing these familiar sights, Owen was reminded of the crime scene reconstruction by Max Payne.
"You don't have to stay here right away. You could stay at a hotel for a few days until everything's cleaned up," Owen suggested warmly. Most people would have lingering trauma after an incident like this.
But Monica simply shook her head. "It's fine. I just need to tidy up a little. Don't worry about me—I'm okay."
After all, Monica wasn't an ordinary woman. Most people wouldn't dare stay in a place where they had nearly been killed. But Monica? She acted as if nothing had happened.
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