The proposal had been a surprise orchestrated by Owen for his mother. Now that he understood how she truly felt, he had secretly contacted McCall. Linda hadn't accepted the proposal on the spot last time out of concern for her children's feelings. Now, with their blessing, Owen wanted her to have a happy ending.
McCall's proposal was a success. The couple, full of joy and surrounded by blessings, withdrew to enjoy a quiet moment together. As the children, Owen and Amanda had no intention of interfering. It was their mother's happiness, and tonight, they were just hosts.
Owen spotted Bryan and Sam chatting in a corner with a few others and walked over.
"Hey, fellas…"
Sam and his crew happened to be in Los Angeles for some work, and when Owen called Bryan, they were already together.
"Hey, our CTU boy's here!"
Laughter and cheers erupted before Owen could even reach them. It had been a while since they'd seen each other—phone calls were all they'd managed lately.
With a pop, Sam opened a bottle of beer and handed it to Owen. The group clinked bottles.
"Heard you've been doing pretty well these days," Owen said, taking a sip and raising a curious eyebrow.
"Not bad," grinned the burly Jim. Sam added, "Yeah, things are alright. We've got some good gigs coming from the military and the CIA. You know how it is—CIA pays a lot better than the military."
"CIA, huh?"
Owen raised an eyebrow, not the least bit surprised. All of them were former CIA operatives, and it made sense they still had connections.
"Are you guys doing the jobs yourselves or outsourcing?"
Owen knew a bit about the PMC world. Some private contractors didn't carry out missions themselves—they took jobs, then subcontracted the work to individuals or smaller teams, acting more like brokers than operatives.
"We do it ourselves, of course. We're still too small to delegate. If we ever scale up, then maybe we'll take over local security contracts. That's where the big money is."
Sam spoke casually, but Owen had to admit he admired them. These guys couldn't sit still. Despite their age, they were still taking up arms and getting the job done.
"You guys ever think about retiring? PMC work can get pretty dangerous."
Owen wasn't exaggerating. Sure, recon and escort jobs were relatively safe, but some contracts were high-risk, and once accepted, they couldn't be declined—at least not without ruining their reputation and future prospects.
And the danger was real. Most of their jobs were in or near active conflict zones, often around U.S.-occupied regions overseas. One wrong move, and they could end up dead.
"Sure, there's danger," Sam replied. "But it's not like the U.S. is any safer. Walk down Wall Street and you might get gunned down. Take a flight—hello hijackers. Go to the bank—you could be taken hostage. Public events? Suicide bombers. Sit at home? Maybe chemical gas leaks. There's no such thing as safety anymore. Look at just the other day—oh wait, never mind. Forget I said anything. We signed NDAs. Don't want to go bankrupt and end up in jail."
Everyone cracked up at Wright's quick backpedal. Whether military or CIA, operational details were strictly confidential, and they all knew better than to share anything sensitive.
Owen chuckled bitterly. Wright's logic was twisted, but not wrong. There were nearly two mass shootings every day in America. And working at CTU, Owen knew better than anyone how often terrorist attacks occurred—more frequently and more violently each year.
Funny enough, all the hypothetical examples Wright listed? Owen had actually dealt with them personally.
"Speaking of danger," Sam leaned forward, "your job isn't any safer than ours. But let's be honest—your pay is way worse. Sure, I know what you're gonna say. Bonuses after missions. Maybe some education perks for your kids. But believe me, even if you add it all up, it's still nothing compared to what we're making. So what do you say—ever thought about joining us?"
Owen smirked. So much for him telling them to retire—now they were trying to recruit him.
"Sure, why not? As long as you convince Bryan to join too, I'm in."
He smoothly tossed the hot potato into Bryan's lap. Predictably, the group burst into mock outrage.
"Oh come on, man! You know Bryan's a full-time girl dad now. He's happy making pennies as long as he's with his daughter. Alright, alright—we get it. You're not interested. Your loss, pal. You're passing up a gold mine. You'll regret it someday."
Owen shook his head, laughing. These guys were relentless. Maybe he was used to living dangerously—but being a mercenary wasn't for him. Not yet.
Sure, maybe down the road. But not now.
Not when he felt his work still had meaning. Each crisis resolved meant lives saved. Even if no one knew his name, being a nameless hero felt worth it.
He downed the rest of his beer in one gulp. Truth was, he didn't really care about the money. If he did, he'd have accepted Beth's offer long ago to be her chief of security—with a salary he could name himself.
With the conversation finally shifting away from him, Owen quickly turned to Bryan.
"So how's life treating you, Bryan?"
Bryan shrugged. "Not bad. I work one or two weeks a month. The rest of the time, I stay here in L.A. with Kim. She's working on getting her driver's license, so I'm teaching her."
"You're a good dad."
Owen could see that Bryan was trying to make up for lost time—making amends for the years his job kept him away from home. Now, he was giving his daughter his all.
Just then, Amanda and Kim's laughter floated over. The two girls skipped through the crowd and spotted Owen, hurrying over.
"Steve, I just asked Mom and McCall—they're going to the Maldives this weekend! They asked if we want to come with them."
Owen blinked. This was news to him. McCall must've thought of it on the spot—makes sense, since they just got engaged.
"Nah, let's not intrude on their honeymoon."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. But if they're away, there's not much for us to do here. Kim and I were thinking—how about Hawaii? Just a quick trip. Four days, in and out, and we'll be back before your leave ends."
Not a bad idea. Owen looked to Bryan.
Bryan hesitated. He glanced at Kim, then back at Owen. "Sorry, I won't be able to go. I'm leaving tomorrow. Beth—you know, your rich friend—hired me for a week of private security. It's already set. Can't reschedule."
"No worries. I'll take them."
Owen didn't hesitate to reassure him. Bryan clearly wanted to spend more time with Kim, but business was business. And since Owen was the one who'd recommended Bryan to Beth, backing out now would've reflected poorly on both of them.
In the Western world, reputation was everything.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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