A/N: written for Trope Bingo Round 11: Happy Ending.
"Coming babe?"
Her leg hangs off the side of the couch and the bottle of beer still sits wedged between her hip and the cushion, but he's not complaining. She's asleep, alive, and they're both intact. That's the important thing. That's what he fought so hard for, never mind the billion dollar pay-check, and it's what he's gotten.
"What do you think?"
Owen leans back, sips from the complimentary champagne they were given, and closes his eyes. They've switched between two planes already, luckily the third one's the charm. Cipher picked them up somewhere over Texas and allowed them refuge on-board her sleek black death trap. The chip's still stashed, secure till he's confident Cipher's paid him and he can disseminate the money between their accounts, then reroute and reroute it till there's a billion dollars hidden to the point even she would never be able to find it again.
It's over. It's finally over.
After next week, there'll be no more bullshit. He can relax on a beach on a private island somewhere in the Caribbean and never have to worry about work again. They can relax, and lay around naked on the sand for all he cares. This is what he's been wanting his entire life and Owen G. Shaw is just days from having true freedom.
It's one hell of a happy ending for him. He never expected her to say yes, nor that she'd come with him. Her memories are gone, he reminded himself, but her emotions were there. Yet when the time came, those lingering attachments she'd formed had been thrown aside and it was she who chose him.
"Where are we?" Letty says, shielding her eyes with her hands. "Cipher's plane, I know, asshole, but what country?"
"France, or Italy." Owen shrugs. He won't say it aloud but he likes it when she calls him asshole. It reminds him she's fiery, his exact type of woman, and that he's achieved all of this because of her. "Too many borders to keep track of."
Letty realised the moment she climbed into that tank that she'd arrived at her point of no return. It was the moment in her life when God announced He had bingo fuel and it was either go hard or go home, so she chose hard.
"You get paid yet?"
"The money's trickling down." You couldn't just transfer a billion dollars into an account without setting off a lot of alarms. "It'll all be there tomorrow."
"Uh-huh." Not that Letty didn't appreciate the fine art of cleaning money but she just wanted to get paid and get the hell of this plane. In so many words, the bitch was crazy, and Letty had no intention of letting either of them get swept up in another one of her schemes. She'd told Owen one last job and then they'd both walk away. Thank God he'd listened.
"One hell of a week, huh?" Owen says, closing his eyes and stretching out on his own couch. "First thing we'll do tomorrow is find ourselves an island and buy it. Preferably one with houses already built, and that's on the outskirts of hurricane territory."
"An island?"
"Sun, sand, ocean."
"And no cars."
"And no cars," Owen says, remembering what her deal breaker is. Letty wants a road, or roads. Long roads she can race down. "Maybe we'll buy a piece of France then. Plenty of roads there."