15Swan lay face down on a burgundy padded birch wood massage table in the hotel spa. Her arms hung loosely over the top of the table, her head turned sideways on a lavender-scented pillow. A middle aged woman kneaded a blend of warm oils and sweetened ginger into her muscular back and shoulders. Another woman applied the same treatment to her legs and feet. A thin towel pretended to cover her bottom. She had spent a troubled night thinking about Matu, her imagination running wild. Despite knowing what Osman was capable of she hoped the morning would bring an end to her worry. She did not have enough money to flee anywhere Osman could not find her. Maybe there wasn’t enough money for that. If so, the plans she made with Matu were futile and foolhardy.
“Harder,” she instructed the masseuses
