Page 52 of Laying Low

“You know,” Reg said softly, “if Reynaldo’s aunt has your passport and a letter from your mother, that means your mother is trying to keep you safe.You know that, right?She doesn’t want you to follow your uncle any more than you want to go with him.You’re… you’re doing what she wanted.If that helps.”

Ilia nodded and gave him a brief glance before wiping his eyes.“I’m going to go hide with Reynaldo,” he said softly.“All this trouble, I’d better not get caught.”

Eben watched him go and shook his head.“Those are good kids,” he said.“I’ll be back in a bit, and you all can get on your way.”

Reg sighed, and—much to Anthony’s surprise—leaned his head against Anthony’s shoulder.“Are you tired?”he asked randomly.“I’mexhausted.”

“Oh yeah,” Anthony told him.“And I didn’t spend half the morning blowing chum off the back of the boat.”

Reg groaned.“Not one of my best moments, no.”

And that, of all things, made Anthony laugh.“Baby, you’ve been puking all morning, and you still tried to make that kid smile.Don’t kid yourself—this isallyour best moment.”

Reg shook his head.“I’m too tired to argue,” he murmured.“When did I get to be ‘baby’?I’m curious, that’s all.Feels like I’ve been trying not to fall in love with you since we met, and now that my guard is down, you’re already there, ‘baby’ and all.God, you’re brave.How are you all ready to be in love?”

“I don’t know,” Anthony said, running his fingers through Reg’s fine hair—he’d taken off his stocking cap when he’d been throwing up.In the fog, his hair was limp and plastered to his forehead, making him look young, like a child lost in the rain.“I just talked to you and fell.I guess I figured waiting for you to join me in the fall was worth it.”

Reg nodded.“I can only worry about so much at a time,” he confessed.“I guess I’ve maxed out on worrying about whether I’ll get hurt in the fall.Bigger things to worry about.”

“Mm.”Anthony kissed his forehead, lost in his warmth, his pliancy, and the wonderful weight of his confession.“Yeah.I—” His words were drowned out by the thump of feet and shouts beyond the dock.“Shit,” he muttered.

Together they both peered out of the cabin’s window, searching for the source of the shouts.

“Oh hell.”Anthony scowled at the SUVs with light bars parked badly at the entrance to the dock—and at the men, sans masks, wearing uniform body armor and wielding expensive weapons.“These guys look like the real deal.”

“I’ll untie the moorings,” Reg said, straightening up.“Eben’s supplies would have been welcome, but we’ve got enough medicine and crackers to last until tomorrow morning.It’s time to go.”

Anthony held his breath as Reg—moving gracefully, for all his discomfort when they’d been out at sea—hurried out of the cabin and started untying the mooring ropes.He’d managed to recover himself for an hour or two while Anthony had napped, more tired than he cared to admit.The three of them—Anthony, Ilia, and Reg—all took their rest times with Reynaldo, sometimes simply letting him know they were there and sometimes talking with him to help keep his spirits up.He’d found Reg’s upset stomach somehow hilarious, and Ilia had, in the way of fifteen-year-old boys, made “It was the epic Godzilla of puking—you would have loved it,” sound almost wholesome.

Now Anthony started up the boat and mentally urged Reg to hurry up, hurry up, because the fracas at far end of the dock seemed to be getting closer and more important.

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby, c’mon….”

Reg slipper-footed nimbly, in spite of the subtle rocking of the boat, and officers—withoutmasks, and in uniform khaki tactical gear—thundered across the quay.

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby—”

“Got it!”Reg called, scrambling around to the side of the cabin and ducking through the door as Anthony, head over his shoulder, palmed the wheel of the tiller, backing them out of the slip and toward open water.

They were far enough away to claim plausible deniability when the ICE agents—Anthony was pretty sure they were the real deal this time—shouted, “Wait!Wait, we need to search your….”

And that was the last thing he could hear as he opened up the throttle and roared for the bay.

THE BOAT—theLizzy May I—had lights, because, Eben had told them, he and his wife used to take it on weekends, and they wanted to be legally able to navigate home at night.

Fresh from having taken one of the last of the Dramamines, Reg stood at Anthony’s elbow and repeated the directions for Evinruding safely through the fog.

Anthony yawned.“I really think I could—”

But Reg, feeling brave, wrapped his arm around Anthony’s waist and leaned his head on his shoulder.He should have been flabbergasted at taking these liberties, but he felt entitled to them instead.

“You’re exhausted,” he said firmly.“You’ve been doing this all day.I can’t promise I’ll be useful for long, so please go nap.”He chuckled dryly.“It’s really very cozy down there.You and Eben made quite a nice little nook.”

His stomach gurgled threateningly, and Reg told it sternly to behave.They’d made a scant meal of Reynaldo’s sandwich, some stored protein bars Anthony had in his gear, and some of the fruit Eben had brought on board.They had more fruit and cheese for the morning, but after that?

Hopefully they’d be docked and not wandering the murky gray of Puget Sound forever, like hungry ghosts.

Anthony, keeping one hand on the wheel, leaned against Reg in return.“Okay,” he said, and the tenseness of his shoulders relaxed.“You remember everything I told you?”