Chapter 15 Good Morning Messages
GOOD MORNING MESSAGES
L'Abri S?r, Louisiana One Week After Dallas
Mara was in the training facility running through hand-to-hand drills with Winter when Quinn found her. The knock on the doorframe was tentative, which meant Quinn had something to say that she wasn't sure how Mara would react to.
Mara finished the sequence and grabbed a towel. "What's up?"
Quinn held up her tablet. "Got a response. Through Beth. From Ghost. Actually from Logan."
Mara's heart did something complicated in her chest. She kept her voice neutral. "What kind of response?"
"He's asking for a way to contact you directly.
Says he wants to collect on that beer but Louisiana's a big state and he needs to know how to find you.
" Quinn pulled up the message. "He sent his phone number through Ghost. Asked if I could set up a secure line so you two could talk directly instead of playing telephone through three people. "
Winter was watching with entirely too much interest. Mara ignored her and focused on Quinn. "A phone number?"
"I can set it up. Route it through enough layers that nobody could trace it back to us. As far as anyone tracking it would know, it's just a random civilian number. No connection to Shadow Veil or L'Abri S?r." Quinn was watching her carefully. "Question is whether you want it."
Mara looked at Winter, who was now openly grinning. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Nope. This is way more interesting than anything else I had planned." Winter leaned against the wall. "You going to call him?"
"I haven't decided if I'm even going to get his number yet."
"That's a lie. You're totally going to get his number." Winter grabbed her own towel. "Question is whether you're going to tell the rest of us when you do."
Mara turned back to Quinn. "Can you set it up without it being traceable back to us?"
"Already working on it." Quinn tilted her head. "You want this kept quiet?"
"For now. Between us. I don't need everyone weighing in on whether this is a good idea."
"It's probably not a good idea," Quinn said. "But I'll set you up anyway."
"Thanks."
Quinn left and Winter immediately rounded on her. "You're really going to do this? Start something with a Delta operator?"
"I'm not starting anything. I'm just going to thank him for responding.
Maybe exchange a few texts. That's it." Even as Mara said it, she knew it wasn't true.
Knew that getting Logan's number was opening a door she'd been trying to keep closed.
But the pull was too strong. The need to hear from him, to know he was okay, to continue whatever had started in that compound in Mosul.
"Right," Winter said. "Just a few texts. Sure."
"Don't you have an equipment inventory to run?"
"I do. But this is way more fun." Winter headed for the door, still grinning. "For what it's worth, I think you should go for it. Life's too short to not take risks on the things that matter."
She left before Mara could respond. Mara stood there in the training facility, towel in hand, heart still doing that complicated thing in her chest. She was really going to do this.
Going to reach out to a man she barely knew but couldn't stop thinking about.
A man who operated in a completely different world but who'd looked at her like he understood exactly who she was.
Two hours later, Quinn sent her a text with a phone number. No explanation. Just ten digits and a simple message: "Secure. Untraceable. Have fun."
Mara stared at the number for ten minutes before she finally typed out a message.
"Heard you owe me a beer."
She hit send before she could overthink it. Then immediately regretted it. Too casual. Too flippant. She should have said something else. Something more meaningful or less obvious or—
Her phone buzzed.
"Planning on collecting?"
Mara smiled despite herself. "Maybe. Depends on if you're good for it."
"I'm a man of my word. Ask anyone on my team."
"Your team thinks I'm a ghost. Pretty sure they wouldn't tell me anything useful."
"Fair point. Guess you'll have to trust me."
"Trust is earned."
"Then let me earn it."
And just like that, they were talking. Not about the mission or the rescue or the complicated situation they'd found themselves in. Just talking like two people who wanted to know each other better.
Over the next six weeks, the texts became a routine.
But it wasn't balanced. Logan had all the time in the world.
Recovery meant physical therapy sessions and mandatory rest and hours with nothing to do but think and text.
Mara had a job. Had operations. Had women and children depending on her to stay focused.
The mornings were his. He'd text her at 0600 his time, 0500 hers. "Good morning" messages that had become a ritual. Sometimes just a greeting. Sometimes a photo of terrible hospital food or his PT progress. Sometimes a joke or a random thought that had kept him up the night before.
Mara would respond when she could. Between morning briefings and tactical planning sessions.
While waiting for intel from Quinn. During the rare quiet moments when she had five minutes to herself.
But there were days when operations demanded everything and she couldn't respond for hours.
Days when she'd finally check her phone at 2200 and find a dozen messages from Logan, each one a reminder that he was thinking about her while she was thinking about staying alive.
Logan told her about physical therapy, about the frustration of healing slower than he wanted, about his team giving him grief for being glued to his phone.
"Bulldog says I'm worse than a teenager," he texted one afternoon.
"Risk threatened to confiscate my phone if I don't focus during PT. Pretty sure he's serious."
Mara responded three hours later, between the Miami debrief and the new target analysis for Atlanta. "Tell Risk I said you need the distraction. Recovery is boring."
"You sound like you know from experience."
"I've had my share of injuries. Occupational hazard."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really. Want to hear about your terrible PT instead."
He sent her a voice message. His laugh. The sound of it still did things to her chest. "Martinez made me do single-leg squats today. With the bad leg. I think she enjoys watching me suffer."
Mara told him about the bayou when she had time.
About morning sunrises on the dock when she couldn't sleep.
About the satisfaction of work that mattered even when it was hard.
But she was careful. Never mentioned specific operations.
Never gave details that could identify L'Abri S?r or Shadow Veil.
Just broad strokes. Just enough to let him know she was still there.
Still thinking about him even when the responses came slow.
"You went quiet for a while," he texted one night after she'd been dark for eight hours.
"Work got busy. Sorry."
"Don't apologize. I know you have a life. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."
"I'm okay. Tired. But okay."
"Get some sleep. I'll still be here in the morning."
And he was. Always. Another good morning message waiting when she woke up. Another reminder that someone was thinking about her even when she was too busy to think about herself.
They danced around the specifics. He didn't ask where she was based or who she worked for. She didn't ask about his missions or his deployment schedule. They existed in a space that was just theirs, separate from the operational realities that defined their lives.
But they talked about everything else. Books and movies and music.
Childhood memories and family dynamics. The things that had shaped them into who they'd become.
Logan told her about growing up in Montana, about a father who'd served in Vietnam and a mother who'd worried every day but never said it out loud.
About a sister who texted him constantly even though he rarely responded.
About joining the Army at eighteen because it felt like the only thing that made sense.
Mara told him about being fifteen and scared and making choices that had nearly destroyed her.
About finding her way out and deciding that if she'd survived, she could help others do the same.
She told him late at night when the compound was quiet and she had time to actually think.
When she wasn't running operations or planning extractions or dealing with the hundred small crises that came with running L'Abri S?r.
She didn't give him details about L'Abri S?r or Shadow Veil, but she told him enough that he understood the why behind what she did. The drive to be the person who came for people who had no one else.
"You're making a difference," he texted one night. "That matters."
"So are you."
"I'm just following orders. You built something from nothing."
Mara read that message at 0200 after getting back from Atlanta.
Exhausted. Running on adrenaline and coffee.
The extraction had gone clean but she'd spent twelve hours on her feet and her body was screaming for sleep.
But she took the time to respond because Logan was awake and waiting and she didn't want him to think she didn't care.
"You stayed behind so a kid could get out. That's not just following orders."
"That was the right call."
"Exactly. You made the right call. Same as I do. We're not that different."
There was a pause before his next message. "No. I guess we're not."
The next morning she woke up to find he'd sent her six more messages.
Nothing urgent. Just thoughts. Updates. The mental wandering of someone with too much time to think.
She read them while drinking coffee. Responded to three.
Made a mental note to catch up on the others later.
Got pulled into a briefing before she could.
By the time she checked her phone again it was 1400 and Logan had sent two more.
"You disappeared again."
"Still okay?"