Murder in the Medina by Carter Fielding

Author:Carter Fielding [Fielding, Carter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647044169
Publisher: Carter Fielding Press
Published: 2021-10-08T12:53:08+00:00

15

Good Lord, I was filthy. Whitt had had to let out the water and run a second bath. She had showered before she got in, thinking that the shower would knock off the hard dirt, but after ten minutes in her first bubble bath, the water had turned gray, and the big airy bubbles had deflated into a filmy foam on the water. The second bath had fewer bubbles and was starting to cool, but the water was still clear. I’m clean, at last. I am glad Finley showered first. She’d kill me if I left her with a cold shower.

Whitt rose from the lukewarm bath and wrapped herself in the large fluffy white bath towels that the porters brought in every morning. Bruises the size of small bats purpled her side and buttocks. Her shoulder had a raw red scrape that had started to scab already. Her other side looked pretty good. A few scrapes but no ugly bruises. She wondered how beat up Finley had gotten.

When she rewrapped Finley’s wrists with the gauze that Max had given them, Finley had turned her head away from the rope burns that were still bloody in places. They must hurt like hell. It would take a while for those to completely heal. It would take even longer for both of them to heal emotionally, especially Finley. She must be all twisted up inside seeing Max, having to depend on him, and having him acting like there wasn’t a boatload of history that had yet to be unloaded, much less unpacked.

Whitt had to acknowledge that she had a lot of nerve talking about what Finley wasn’t facing up to. She had her own elephant in the room that was dancing a jig, begging to be recognized. It felt so easy to lean on David. He was so comfortable, so available, but then again, so was her favorite couch. That didn’t mean they should be inseparable. Did she like him because he had been there, or because she really liked him? He did come to surprise her, though. Just like she had hoped he would. Was the kidnapping the reason for her dampened feelings, or was there something else?

Finley looked up from her book when Whitt walked back into the room. “You clean finally? I am so glad I took a shower first. I would’ve been pissed if I had had to wait for the water to warm up before I could get clean.” She sounded like a nursery schoolteacher trying to teach her four-year-old charges about the importance of sharing. She was already resigned to failure.

“But you did get to go first. So, I didn’t have to worry about using all the water,” Whitt protested as she plopped down on her side of the bed and stuck her toes under the bedspread. “Besides, with your hair that short, you don’t use that much water. I had to wash mine three times to get the weeds and grunge out. You didn’t get thrown in the muck and reeds.

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