Spiker startled as if she had poked him with a cattle prod. “Since when?”
She shrugged. “Since I was born in a hospital not too far from here.”
His jaw hinged. The overhead speaker announced a New York City-bound Amtrak express. Vanka removed her cell phone from her purse and showed him the screen: two tickets that would deposit them at Penn Station.
They boarded the train without a word. She hadn’t thought he’d be left speechless. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about the repercussions at all. People made assumptions, and other than Buck—who knew far too much about her—and GSI’s HR department, no one knew the details of her legal status. It wasn’t a conversation topic that came up among her colleagues, who came from all corners of the world. Those she socialized with were more interested in the way she dropped the letter r from the end of some words than where she’d lived.
Vanka kept her phone out so their tickets could be scanned, and they settled in at the far end of a half-empty coach, where she took a window seat.
“I’m not sure you show enough appreciation for George Washington.”
Thank God he had made a joke. “I’ll work on that.”
Spiker shifted his back toward the aisle. “I want to know more.”
“There’s not much to say.”
“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”
A train employee approached their row. “Where to?”
“Penn Station.” She held out her phone with the tickets.
The man stuck a station marker above their seats and moved on. “Have a good trip.”
“That kid,” Spiker said. “From the museum.”
“Don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” she scolded. “I’m not trading secrets tit for tat.”
Spiker shrugged as though he didn’t care, but that didn’t hide how much he did. “Something about that kid reminded me of . . .” His shoulders lifted. “Of me.”
“The kid that you were speaking to?”
“The kid the others were bulling.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. Had Spiker been bullied? That didn’t make sense. Had he been the bully? Given his size and hard-edged attitude, she might be able to see that, but it would be a colossal stretch. His use of force during assignments was more for show. Vanka bit her lip.
“I could see what had happened and what would always happen unless something changed.” Spiker drew in a long breath as his gaze lost its focus, seeing something that happened many years ago. “He was ready to pop.”
“So you helped?”
His eyes retrained themselves on her, but they didn’t lose the exhausted, irritated lines that colored his expression. “The other kids, the ones egging the bully on, they knew what would happen.”
“What?”
“Hell, I don’t know specifics. The kid’d lose his shit then get his ass kicked.” He took another slow breath. “Some variation of that. It’s a bitch of a cycle.”
Spiker had been picked on. She had no idea. Even as he told her, it was almost too strange to believe. This man could scare off a crowd with a foul look, and disarm an attacker with one hand tied behind his back. An unexaggerated truth; she had borne witness to both.
“Bullying’s a numbers game.”
She licked her lips and tentatively said, “I didn’t know that.”
Spiker nodded. “How many pokes and prods would it take this time? Next time?”
“What did you tell him?”
His glance bounced from her to the window’s passing scenery and back again. “That there was a fine line between acting like a pussy and throwing a punch.”
Vanka was no parent or teacher, but that didn’t seem like proper guidance. “Oh.”
“And,” he continued, “that those other kids doled out crap because they felt like shit.” He almost smiled. “I might’ve said that another way, but the message remained the same. All those kids needed help. Just different types.”
The train swayed and rumbled into a tunnel. Their car darkened, and her heart swelled. Vanka used the shadows to protect them both as she whispered, “You’re truly one of the good guys.”
He scoffed, then added, “The same goes for you too.”
They emerged from the tunnel. The discussion was over. Neither spoke as the other Union Station stop approached. The weekend riders always differed from weekday commuters. Boarding took longer with confused passengers, curious kids, and stubborn strollers. Vanka pulled up the armrest that separated her from Spiker. She repositioned herself so she could look out the window, resting her back against his arm as Spiker let the low din of the car and the sway of the train lull him to sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The hours passed quickly. Vanka only elbowed Spiker one time for snoring too loud. She might have a second or third time, but twin boys that had boarded somewhere after Baltimore thought the sounds he made were hysterical. They weren’t wrong.
Though the train line continued through Boston, the majority of passengers prepared to disembark with them at Penn Station. Soon, as they rolled through Trenton, the cabin stirred enough to make Spiker wake up with an undignified snort. She and the twins grinned at their secret joke.
Spiker stretched and rubbed his eyes. “Man, I slept like a baby.”
The twins fell into a fit of giggles.
He glanced across the aisle. Their laughter silenced as though he’d flipped a switch. Vanka choked on her tongue to hide her laughter. Spiker’s gaze whipped between her and the boys. “I snored, huh?”
“You snored a lot,” the closer boy said, much to the mortification of his apologizing mother in the next row.
He leaned across the aisle and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “You should hear her. Like a jackhammer in an echo chamber.”
The twins fell apart all over again as the train slowed into Penn Station and stopped under the crackling announcement that they’d arrived.
Vanka and Spiker knew the station well, and had traveled without baggage, allowing them to thread through weekend crowds and avoid bottlenecks, surfacing in the city in time for a late lunch.
“Now what?” He rested his hand on the small of her back and guided them through the chaotic mishmash of people.
Vanka wasn’t tall. She appreciated the times he acted as her personal security and cleared a path through packed sidewalks. Today was no different. Except, gratitude for his height wasn’t her first thought. Vanka recalled his hand on her bare back the night before, caressing the spot above where the dress had curved over her backside. She let Spiker move them down the busy New York City street—not having a clue where they would end up—while she relived the sizzle that had burned up her spine and down to the very bottom of her stomach. She reminisced over the moment he first saw her, how his jaw tightened and his pupils dilated. He’d stared like a starving man presented with his favorite meal. She’d soaked in his reaction and floated in a wispy cloud of attraction.
They stopped at the corner of West 34th and 7th. “Which way?”
“We can stay on 7th until East 42nd, then cut over to 5th Avenue.” She guessed he was trying to map their route and determine their final destination. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have any idea what would happen next.