Something else rolled off the tongue briefly as he lay face down on the massage table. The woman leaned over him and flicked her tongue up the side of his neck and jiggled it behind his left ear. Her breasts flattened against his back. He felt a familiar pulse way down in the engine room. And then she was up and massaging his shoulders again. Teasing over for now. Strong hands kneaded the muscles across his back and squeezed up either side of his neck. A knot in his spine cracked. He shifted his head on his folded hands, defining the shape of his upper arms as the elbows jutted out from the bed. The woman’s hands moved from his neck to his right arm as if drawn by the tightened bicep. It was the arm nearest to her. Her fingers first squeezed then caressed the muscle, the oil preventing the friction from being uncomfortable.

McNulty closed his eyes. Even lying naked except for a white towel draped strategically across his buttocks he retained a certain poise. An animal thing that had alpha male written all over it. Self-confidence oozed out of him like sweat and he was surprised nobody ever realized he was a copper when he went undercover. The grey sweatshirt and faded blue jeans thrown carelessly on the floor in the corner might have something to do with it. That and the gothic house tattoo up the side of his neck. Branches of a long-dead tree climbed like witch’s fingers, stopping just short of his left ear.

Natasha—that was the woman’s name, according to the badge pinned to the white smock she no longer wore—changed her attention to his left arm. She followed the same routine of squeezing and caressing, leaning across the table so her hands could reach down his arm. Her breasts touched his back just enough to send tiny sparks of electricity through his body. Too much contact would have dissipated the effect. The engine-room pulse grew stronger and he had to shift position to accommodate the bulge. Natasha’s eyes caught the movement but she said nothing. That was how he liked it. Too much talk dissipated the effect as well.

With his eyes still closed, he mapped the layout of the building in his mind. Important for future operations and for any report submitted later. Professional. Only way to do the job proper. Remain detached and don’t get too involved. Something under the towel was struggling to stay detached. He concentrated on the layout instead, helped by the subtle odour of damp carpet and talcum powder.