Chapter 12 Recovery #2
The arm was in a proper cast now. The ribs were wrapped. The leg wound had been debrided and was healing clean. He'd keep the scars but he'd keep the leg too, which Risk said had been touch and go for a while.
But the physical injuries weren't what kept him awake at night.
It was the memories. The ones that came in fragments and flashes.
Nazari's voice. The pain. The certainty that rescue wasn't coming.
And then the door opening. Mara's face. Her voice telling him they'd come back.
The way she'd looked at him like she actually saw him despite the blood and the bruising and the fact that he could barely stand.
He remembered the feel of her hands on him.
Supporting his weight. Steady and sure even when everything else was chaos.
He remembered her eyes. Dark and intense and focused on him like nothing else mattered.
He remembered the way she'd said his name.
Mara. Like a gift she was giving him. Like something that meant more than just identification.
The door opened and his team filed in. Hawk, Bulldog, Risk, Ghost, and Joker. All of them in civilian clothes. All of them looking like they'd rather be anywhere else than a hospital room.
"How's the invalid?" Bulldog asked, dropping into the chair beside the bed.
"Fantastic," Logan replied. "Living the dream. How'd the debrief go?"
Hawk grimaced. "About as well as expected. The colonel knows we're lying. Knows there's no way you made it back to base on your own with those injuries. But he can't prove anything and we're all sticking to the story."
"Which is?"
"That you escaped during a prisoner transfer. Made your way back to Erbil on foot. Showed up at the gate half-dead and we got you medical care." Hawk crossed his arms. "It's thin. It's full of holes. But it's all he's getting."
"And he's not pushing?"
"Oh, he's pushing. Just not hard enough to break it.
I think he's decided he'd rather have you back alive than have answers that might implicate us in unauthorized ops.
" Ghost pulled up another chair. "We're officially on stand-down until you're cleared for duty.
Pulled from rotation. Sent home to recover and think about our life choices. "
"How long?"
"Doc says three to four months minimum before your arm's healed enough for operations.
Ribs will be good in six to eight weeks.
Leg should be solid in about the same timeframe with aggressive PT.
" Risk's medical assessment was blunt. "You push it right, stay on top of rehab, you could be back in four months.
Maybe less if you're lucky and don't do anything stupid. "
Four months. Logan processed that. Four months of physical therapy and limited duty and watching his team operate without him.
Four months of recovery. Four months stateside.
Four months that could be spent doing something besides just healing.
Four months to track down a woman named Mara who'd told him Louisiana and given him a way to find her.
"I can work with four months."
"That's if you don't rush it and make things worse," Risk cautioned. "Bone needs time to heal properly. Rush it and you'll end up with permanent damage. Never operate again."
"Then I won't rush it. I'll do it right." Logan met Risk's eyes. "But I'm not sitting on my ass for four months. I'll be in PT every day. Doing everything the docs tell me and then some."
"That's the attitude," Hawk said. "We need you back. Team's not the same without you."
Joker spoke up from near the window. "Look at the bright side. Four months of being stateside. No deployments. No ops. You could actually have a life for once."
"I have a life."
"You have the teams. That's not the same thing." Joker paused. "Four months is long enough to do something besides just rehab. Maybe actually enjoy being home for a change."
Logan didn't argue because Joker wasn't wrong.
Twenty years in special operations. Twenty years of training, deploying, training more.
Relationships that didn't stick because he was never around.
Family that had stopped calling because he never called back.
A life measured in missions instead of moments.
But now he had something different. Someone different.
A woman with dark eyes who'd come back for him when she didn't have to.
Who'd given him her name and told him how to find her. Who'd looked at him like he mattered.
"Speaking of lives," Bulldog said, leaning forward with a grin that meant trouble. "You want to talk about the woman who pulled you out of that cell?"
Logan's eyes opened. "What about her?"
"Just that you haven't stopped asking about her since you woke up. Want to know if she made it out. If her team's okay. If anyone's heard anything." Bulldog's grin widened. "That's a lot of interest in someone you barely met."
"She saved my life. I'm interested in making sure she didn't get killed doing it."
"Uh huh. And that's the only reason you keep bringing her up."
Logan felt heat creep up his neck. Because Bulldog wasn't wrong.
He'd been asking about her. Constantly. Every time he surfaced from the pain meds he'd asked if anyone had heard from her team.
If they'd made it out clean. If Mara was okay.
The word had become a mantra. Mara. Her name.
The one she'd given him in the darkness before they'd separated.
"I was half-dead. She was making sure I didn't die. You're reading into something that wasn't there."
Ghost pulled out his tablet. "Actually, I've been doing some research. The team that extracted you wasn't military. Wasn't government. Wasn't any official organization I can find. They operate completely off the grid."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been tracking communications and trying to figure out who they are.
Best guess? Private rescue operation. Probably focused on trafficking victims based on the fact that they were in that compound for Nazari's wife and kid.
" Ghost pulled up some data. "They're good.
Really good. Better operational security than most government agencies.
If I hadn't been actively looking, I'd never have found even the traces I did. "
Logan thought about Mara. About the way she'd moved through that compound like she'd done it a thousand times.
Professional. Competent. Deadly when she needed to be.
But it was more than her tactical ability that stuck with him.
It was the moment when she'd looked at him in that cell and he'd seen recognition.
Not just of his face from the compound, but something deeper.
Like she understood what it cost to stay behind.
Like she knew what it meant to make the hard calls.
The way she'd steadied him when he couldn't walk.
The strength in her hands and the gentleness in her voice when she'd told him to lean on her.
The concern in her eyes mixed with determination.
The way she'd admitted she couldn't stop seeing his face.
Couldn't stop hearing his voice. The way she'd promised they'd figure out what this was. Together.
He'd been attracted to her even through the pain and infection and fog of near-death.
Even with his face too swollen to see properly and his body screaming in protest at every movement, he'd noticed her.
The way she moved. The way she spoke. The fierce protectiveness when she'd told him he didn't get to quit.
The vulnerability when she'd admitted why she'd come back.
"She was beautiful," Logan said quietly.
"Even in the middle of that firefight. Even in tactical gear covered in concrete dust. Dark eyes that saw too much.
Strong hands that knew exactly how to support my weight without making me feel weak.
A voice that could be hard as steel one second and gentle the next. " He paused. "Mara. Her name was Mara."
"Oh, you've got it bad," Joker said.
"Yeah. I think I do." Logan didn't try to deny it.
"I spent two days in that cell thinking I was going to die.
Thinking nobody was coming. And then she walked through that door and everything changed.
She came back. Even though she didn't have to.
Even though it put her and her team at risk.
She came back because she couldn't stop seeing my face. "
"Right," Bulldog said. "Which is why you asked about her three times in the medevac. And twice since you've been here. And why you keep saying her name like you're trying to memorize it."
Logan didn't have a good answer for that.
Because the truth was he couldn't stop thinking about her.
About the way she'd looked at him when they'd separated at the rally point.
About the hand squeeze that had felt like a promise.
About Louisiana. About finding her when he could walk again.
About figuring out if what had started in that compound was real or just adrenaline and chaos.
Except he knew it was real. Had known it the moment she'd admitted she couldn't stop seeing his face. The moment she'd said they'd figure it out. Together.
"Even if I wanted to find her," Logan said, though they both knew he did, "I don't know where in Louisiana. No city. No address. Just 'ask Bulldog about Beth.'"
Ghost looked at his tablet thoughtfully. "I might have a way. Beth, Bulldog's friend's girlfriend. She's the one who connected us in the first place. She knows someone in that organization. Someone named Quinn."
"And?"
"And if anyone could get a message through, it'd be her." Ghost met Logan's eyes. "Question is, what message do you want to send?"
Logan was quiet for a long moment. He thought about Mara.
About the way his chest had tightened when she'd said his name.
About the way her hand had felt in his, warm and real and solid.
About the promise he'd made at the rally point.
About Louisiana. About the fact that he was alive right now because she'd taken a risk she didn't have to take.
He thought about four months of recovery.
Four months of physical therapy and desk work and trying to figure out what his life looked like outside of constant operations.
Four months that could be spent doing something besides just healing.
Four months that could include finding a woman who'd saved his life and maybe, just maybe, seeing if that look they'd shared meant what he thought it meant.
Four months to keep a promise. To find Mara. To see if dark eyes and capable hands and a voice that had told him to lean on her could become something more than just a memory from a cell in Mosul.
"Tell her," Logan said slowly, "that Logan Reed doesn't forget promises. That I said I'd find her and I meant it. That Louisiana's a big state but I've got four months to narrow it down. And that I still owe her for coming back when nobody else would."
Hawk raised an eyebrow. "You're serious about this."
"Yeah. I am." Logan met his team leader's eyes. "She could've left me in that cell. Could've prioritized her own team's safety. Could've decided one Delta operator wasn't worth the risk. But she didn't. She came back. And I'm not the kind of person who forgets that."
"She could be anywhere. Could want nothing to do with you. Could be a dead end."
"Could be," Logan agreed. "But she gave me Louisiana. Gave me a way to find her through Beth and Quinn. That's not something you do if you want someone to forget you. That's something you do when you're hoping they'll actually look."
Bulldog grinned. "Now we're talking. Operation Find Mara is officially a go."
"Her name's Mara," Logan said. "And I'm going to find her."
"Or," Ghost said, "she finds you first. Quinn knows who you are. Knows where you're recovering. If Mara wanted to make contact, she could."
Logan thought about that. About the possibility that she was sitting in Louisiana right now thinking about him the same way he was thinking about her.
About whether she'd actually reach out or wait for him to keep his promise.
About the fact that they'd both been careful not to give away too much.
Protecting their respective organizations even while making it clear they wanted to see each other again.
"Then I guess we'll see who's more stubborn," Logan said. "Me trying to find her, or her waiting for me to prove I meant what I said."
Hawk looked at his team. At the men who'd disobeyed orders and risked their careers to coordinate his rescue. At the people who knew him better than anyone and were now encouraging him to chase after a woman he'd spent maybe twenty minutes with total.
"This is insane," Hawk said.
"Probably," Logan agreed. "But I'm doing it anyway."
Bulldog stood up. "Then let's get started. Ghost, reach out to Beth. See if Quinn will take a message. Risk, Joker, help me smuggle some decent food into this place because hospital food is going to kill him faster than Nazari's men did."
They moved with purpose, the team falling into coordination mode like they always did. Planning. Strategizing. Turning an impossible task into a series of actionable steps.
Logan leaned back against the pillows and thought about Mara. About dark eyes and a voice that had told him he was worth saving. About Louisiana and the promise he'd made. About four months of recovery that suddenly felt like it might be worth more than just healing.
Because some promises were worth keeping. Some connections were worth exploring. And some women were worth finding, even if you had no idea where to start.
He closed his eyes and thought about Louisiana. And the woman he was going to find there.
Somewhere in that bayou, Mara was thinking about him too.
He was sure of it.