A Hazard Taken - 1. Chapter 1

A Hazard Taken

Daniel Akindele stared numbly at the wreckage of the fancy hotel room. The remains of a sandwich still sat on the coffee table, uneaten. An unopened gift, pressed into Daniel's hands as they left their small wedding celebration – their very own wedding reception – atop a small suitcase. The silk sheets on the bed lay wildly disarrayed as he and his beloved Ibrahim – Ibi - had left them. As they had made love – and then slept in them.

Now federal Immigration agents bustled about the room, searching, for what, he couldn't possibly guess. Where was Ibi? Where were they taking him? Daniel had seen him bustled from the room by smirking policemen, handcuffs on his wrists behind his back, clothed only in briefs and t-shirt. His own hands were similarly manacled, but he could at least stroke the simple gold ring circling the fourth finger on his left hand.

What had happened? How had things gone so very wrong? His mind was consumed with fear and regret. Not regret that he and Ibi had taken up their courage and gotten married, no. Only regret that somehow, malice and animosity had followed them even to this place.

Daniel closed his eyes against the pain of memories intruding on his mind. How far had he come from his dusty village in Nigeria? How foolish to imagine that by crossing the ocean, he could escape the hate and evil that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Nigeria was no place to be born a gay man.

Daniel knew this from bitter experience. Growing up, he knew he was different from the other boys in the village. When he was eight, his mother spoke of marriage, of raising a family. The idea seemed preposterous. At eleven, he realized the village boys were far more interesting than the girls.

He remembered the horror that had taken place in his tiny hamlet. One sultry afternoon, several SUV's, crowded with men from another town, arrived in the center of the marketplace. They poured out of the cars, broke down the door to a house on the other side of the street, and dragged out three village boys, barely at the end of their teens.

"Perverts! Fohun­! Devils!" Came the shouts from the crowd. "Homosexuals!"

He watched wide-eyed in fear from his doorway. He knew the boys in the hands of the mob. They were friends.

"Come out! Come out! See what you must do to purify the nation!" Someone had a loudspeaker.

Very tentatively, people emerged from their homes, creeping closer to see the three fearful adolescents in the center of the seething pack of angry men. Dangerous men, who were armed.

Daniel had stayed where he was. He could not bear to watch as the three were first harangued by their assailants, then beaten to death with tool handles and boards and anything else that came to hand. Many of his neighbors joined in.

Daniel knew might be called weak and perhaps accused of being a pervert himself if he did not cross over to the marketplace to be part of the bloodletting. But he could not bring himself to do it.

A few years later, a deeply wary and cautious Daniel was incredibly fortunate to escape his village with his secret. It was not a great mystery: Daniel was a very intelligent boy, and made the highest marks in school. His parents were immensely proud that he was awarded a place at University in Abuja.

There, he had met Ibrahim Diallo, a boy – nearly a man – and with a secret like his own. Where Daniel was tall, Ibi was short. Where Daniel was patient and careful, Ibi was impulsive. Where Daniel would smile in amusement, Ibi would roar with raucous laughter. But very soon, they were inseparable; where one went, the other was sure to be, also. And one day, both knew they could not, would not, wish to live one without the other.

It had been a wonderful, terrible, exciting time. Daniel, with his methodical and deliberate nature, studied computers and programming; Ibi earned a degree in Economics. The two met whenever they could, almost always as part of a larger group, ever fearful of what others might think or say. To be denounced as homosexuals would mean certain poverty, likely criminal prosecution, possibly death.

Despite the risks, they found University jobs that let them see each other more frequently. Daniel visited Ibi's politically well-connected family in the capital. He even stayed overnight in Ibi's home once, when his parents were away in the north. There, with the household staff asleep, they were to touch and kiss and hold one another in secret.

When the chance to take a job in the United States was offered to Ibrahim, they talked it over for almost twenty four hours, non-stop. They did not wish to part, but Daniel insisted.

"At least one of us will get out safely, Ibi," he had said then. He remembered reaching out to wipe away a tear running down Ibi's cheek. "And besides, you will find me a place there, too, and I will join you." He had done his best to smile in that hour, but his heart was breaking when he saw Ibi off to the airport. They could not kiss, and their embrace was brief, outwardly fraternal.

Eight months later, he could not believe his good fortune when it was his turn to follow Ibi to New York.

Ibi met Daniel at JFK, took him to an apartment in Queens, and there, for the first time in complete freedom, they made happy and passionate love to one another. Daniel still remembered the gleam of Ibi's skin as he moved over his lover; the heat of his body both within and without. They had thirty six glorious hours together. They may have eaten, but Daniel didn't remember that.

But it wasn't actually New York where Daniel was to go; not the great city where Ibi lived.

Daniel had received an invitation from a distant cousin to work in a family owned a food distribution business in Niagara Falls. His job was to set up a computer cataloguing and accounting system. It was a decent business, and relatively easy work, but terribly cold. Daniel was not prepared for a North American winter.

He was better prepared for the welcome he received from his relatives. Family, however distant, is family, especially in a foreign land. They helped him find a one-bedroom upper above another Nigerian family. They showed him how to get around the grey and unfamiliar city. Unfortunately, their welcome also meant making Daniel part of the local Nigerian community. A small, but growing number of expatriates had settled at the Falls. And they brought their prejudices with them.

Daniel's cousins were older than he, and insisted he attend church with them. In a way, he saw the point. There was no better way to integrate himself into the support network of fellow countrymen. At home in Nigeria, they had been separate in their clans and tribes. Here in America, they seemed to band together for mutual care and information. At first, the church had been a tolerable place to connect with others, even though the conservative social theology – so much like home – repelled him. Soon, however, Daniel began to feel claustrophobic, almost hunted. He constantly met members of the immigrant community wherever he seemed to go.

Worse still, the smiling, round faced pastor had begun to hint broadly that Daniel was of marriageable age. It was only natural he should be looking for a bride. The pastor would be glad to help. After a few such very uncomfortable conversations, Daniel found excuses to distance himself from the congregation. Given the tight knit fellowship, this was not always an easy thing to do. Frequently, he found himself telling small lies to a neighbor or an acquaintance to cover where he was going or what his weekend plans might be.

Much of his time not working was spent on the phone with Ibi. They remained as close as they could at five hundred highway miles of distance. Daniel had made a couple of hurried visits to New York, but they left him feeling as empty as before.

Eventually, Daniel had found a different support group from the network of his Nigerian congregation. Rainbow City, a group of gay men of all ages, races and backgrounds met in the basement of a white man's church – an Episcopal Church. He discovered that American churches made dreadful coffee. But he also found a place where men like himself could share stories and help one another with their difficulties. More than one had wept when he spoke of his own home village.

It was there that he met Stephen, a gentle, older man much affected by hearing Daniel's account.

"When will you see Ibrahim again?" he had asked.

"Perhaps in a few weeks. The train is slow, and the bus is slower. If I travel to New York, I will have barely twenty four hours before I must return," Daniel sighed.

"Can he come to see you?"

Daniel smiled nervously at the thought. "Maybe. But the neighbors would ask questions…"

Stephen had grimaced in response. He did not understand all of what that might mean. If the community turned on Daniel, he might lose his job, and with that, his visa. Daniel would not go back to Nigeria, no. That must not happen.

But two long months later, Ibi called with splendid news. He had received a Green Card; Ibi's expertise in his import-export job in New York City had eventually won him the coveted residency permit. The two talked about possibilities far into the night.

The next day, he spoke with Stephen about it.

"What should I do? Ibi thinks I should quit my job here and go to New York at once. If I do that, how would I get my own Green Card?"

"Why not just marry Ibrahim?"

Daniel's puzzled look prompted Stephen to explain further.

"If you marry, you can apply for a Green Card – you'd be the spouse of a permanent resident. You’d want a lawyer to sort that all out, but I know that you'd be eligible."

"But I cannot afford a lawyer," Daniel began.

Stephen waved that away. "There are agencies in Buffalo that will help you get an immigration lawyer for free, Daniel. I think I know someone who can help."

That had gotten the wheels in Daniel's mind spinning. And when he mentioned the conversation to Ibrahim, his love had leapt at the idea. The whole thing happened in a whirlwind. It was just like Ibi to jump on the earliest plane, and appear at Daniel's doorstep barely a day after they had talked about it for the first time.

It was Ibi's first trip to the Cataract City; he was enchanted by the lights playing on the thundering Horseshoe Falls late in the night of his arrival. But Daniel was torn over how to introduce Ibi to his nosy neighbors. "Ibrahim is a friend visiting from New York City," he finally told one of them on the street an evening later. He could tell Ibrahim was annoyed.

Later when they were alone, an angry Ibi challenged him: "A friend? That's what I am? Just that?"

Daniel stood, head down, shame faced.

Ibi stepped closer. "I am asking you, Daniel: what am I to you?"

"I love you, Ibi, you know that."

"Look at me, then! Who am I, Daniel? What am I doing here?"

And at that moment, Daniel knew he could not cower in the doorways of his life forever. He met Ibi's eyes, tears streaming down his face.

"You are my love, Ibrahim," he replied, reaching down to take both Ibi's hands in his own. "You are the man I want to love and marry. I'm not ashamed of it. I'll shout it on the street corners and everywhere else. I don't care who sees or knows."

And while Daniel felt a thrill at the risk they would take, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. But he didn't have very long to dwell on that sensation, as Ibi was kissing him passionately. Daniel didn’t do much thinking after that.

The next day, Daniel called in sick to work. He and Ibi made their way on foot to City Hall and obtained a marriage license. It was ridiculously easy. They took the bus to the outlet mall and purchased simple gold wedding bands. A fashionable menswear outlet sold them smart matching suits. Back at the apartment, Daniel was on the phone. He called his cousin to inform him he would not be into work the following day. He contacted several friends from Rainbow City. He wanted friends on hand to witness the simple civil ceremony that would take place in City Hall the following day. And he made one more call, reserving a room at the Casino run by the Seneca Nation of Indians downtown for the following night. It would be as much of a romantic honeymoon as he could manage with the remainder of his slim savings.

The next day dawned bright and clear.

Daniel felt Ibi stir next to him in bed. Smiling, he slipped out from under the covers, and planted a small kiss on his lover's forehead. He showered. Returning to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his middle, he found Ibi just out of bed, looking at him appreciatively.

"You sure you don't want come back to bed, Daniel? Put this wedding off for a day?"

"Go on, get ready, we'll have plenty of time for all that later," Daniel grinned.

"There better be time. We're going to need it," Ibi returned, nearly bouncing on his way to the bathroom.

Daniel made breakfast, and tried not to hurry through it when the two of them sat down to eat. Their fruit and coffee and toast seemed to disappear before them in a nervous silence, nevertheless. Was it possible that Ibi was a little anxious, too? Washing up dishes took no time at all.

The two men dressed carefully.

"You look good enough to marry," Daniel smiled down at Ibi, reaching out to adjust his tie.

Ibi grabbed hold of Daniel's hand, and held it up to his cheek. He turned his head and kissed the palm. "I've never wanted to do anything else since I met you," he said quietly.

Daniel pulled Ibi into an embrace. "Then today both of us will see our dreams fulfilled."

But for the moment, time was running a bit short. It was a longish walk to City Hall.

"You have the rings?" Daniel asked Ibi as he shouldered into his heavy overcoat.

"Of course. You have our suitcase?" They had packed for the Casino the evening before.

Just as they were ready to leave, suitcase and license in hand, the pair were pulled up short by a sharp rap on the door. They exchanged astonished looks. Who could be there?

Daniel opened up, and there in the doorway appeared the downstairs neighbor, the church pastor and his cousin. He did not invite them in.

"What is going on, Daniel?" his cousin boomed out. "We thought you were so very ill."

"Ibrahim and I have an appointment downtown, cousin," Daniel replied, motioning Ibi through the knot of people in the doorway. His partner made it partway down the stairs.

"Appointment? What sort of appointment?"

Daniel stepped through the door and deliberately locked the door behind him. He turned to his cousin. "I am to be married in forty five minutes' time."

The pastor's face bloomed into a broad smile. "You young devil! You have kept us all in the dark! Why didn't you tell anyone? You could have had the wedding in the church! Who is the girl?"

Daniel took a deep breath. "I'm not marrying a girl. I'm marrying Ibrahim. I love him." Daniel smiled at his astonished countrymen. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we have an appointment." He hurried down the stairs to join Ibi.

Daniel knew the silence behind him would not last. It didn't. But they were half a block down the street before they heard the pastor's voice shouting behind them: "Fohun filth!! You will regret this, you perverts! You cannot defy the will of God! You will be punished!"

Daniel looked back over his shoulder, as they hustled down the street.

"Are they following us?" Ibi asked anxiously.

"No, thank God."

"What do you think they will do now?"

"I have no idea. My cousin will contact my parents, for certain. I won't be keeping my job."

"Of course you won't," Ibi cracked a small grin, "you're coming to New York."

They walked on for a while.

"I love you, Daniel," Ibi said softly. He reached out gently with one hand, took his partner's and squeezed. "I'm sorry your family found out this way."

"I'm not," Daniel said firmly, "I'm glad. I've been hiding my whole life. I just can't believe all that hate and bigotry transported itself across the ocean. It's time we were free of it. I want to be able to say 'I love you' anywhere I please. Because I do love you also, Ibrahim."

A cluster of familiar faces from Rainbow City awaited Daniel on the chilly steps of City Hall. Ibi set down the suitcase as introductions were made.

"I am so happy we got to meet," Stephen cried as he embraced Ibi. "Daniel cannot stop talking about you."

"Oh really? What has he said?" Ibi laughed, eyes sparkling.

"Nothing too bad," Stephen returned. "Only that you're a soccer god and a brilliant student, and perhaps just a little lower than the angels."

They might have bantered good-naturedly for a long time, but it was time to go in. The little procession passed between the building's stately columns and made its way to the City Clerk's office on the first floor.

There, in front of their new friends, a genial Marriage Officer performed the short ceremony joining Daniel and Ibi together. Cheers and applause far out of proportion to the size of the crowd rang out down the corridors of the staid old building.

And that wasn't all.

Somewhat sheepishly, Stephen informed the happy pair that plans had been made for them. "We kind of arranged a little something in honor of the occasion. I hope you don't mind. Can't have a wedding without a party, can we?"

Daniel and Ibi descended the steps of City Hall as married men, holding hands, smiling at the world.

What they missed was a trio of well-dressed Nigerians across the street, observing them with sour expressions on their faces.

And as the pair were bundled joyfully into Stephen's waiting car, the watchers took careful note.

In a cheerful neighborhood tavern, Daniel and Ibi's friends treated them to a wedding luncheon, if the simple food and drink could be dignified enough for that name. Ibi was at his most gregarious, enjoying Daniel's comrades, and making them his own. The two were toasted and fed and made much of by the Rainbow City family gathered around them. Daniel was so grateful for the love and support, he watched the little party with a tear in his eye.

Late in the proceedings, Stephen sat down quietly next to Daniel while Ibi retailed an uproarious tale about life in Abuja to everyone who would listen. "I'm so happy for you. This is a wonderful day."

Daniel turned. "Yes, it is. I have you to thank for it. You organised all this, didn't you?"

"Well, winter in Niagara Falls needs an excuse for a party, now and then," Stephen grinned.

Daniel chuckled. "This is an excellent excuse, then."

"Yeah."

Two contented smiles looked out at the happy group. Laughter rang out at Ibi's conclusion of his story.

"Where are you going from here?"

"I made arrangements for us to stay at the Casino tonight. We got a very nice room." Daniel did not want to burden his friend with worries about what would happen in the morning.

"Very nice. Would you like me to drop you off there after this?"

And so it was that Ibi and Daniel were chauffeured to the entrance of the Casino late in the afternoon, having been feted and celebrated for several wonderful hours. Nobody noticed the car following behind.

Upon checking in, Daniel and Ibi were whisked to the twelfth floor in a gleaming elevator. They found their way to an expansive corner suite with a remarkable view, a hot tub, and an enormous bed.

They had little time for the view.

Sometime afterwards, Daniel and Ibi discovered the hot tub and the spacious shower. Ibi ordered champagne and sandwiches from room service, waving away Daniel's concerns about the expense.

"We only get married once, Daniel," he smiled, chiding his lover. "Besides, I think my credit card can handle this."

Still later, with the room darkened and the lights of the Falls and the city twinkling below, they made love again. They kissed as Daniel rocked into Ibi gently, slowly, and with great contentment. And when they finally rested, there was complete peace.

At least, until exactly seven forty three the next morning.

Then a thunderous banging on the door had awakened the slumbering, naked pair.

"Federal Agents! Open the door!" a voice commanded.

Wide-eyed, they scrambled out of bed. Daniel searched for the previous day's shirt, while Ibi answered the door in underclothes he'd hastily pulled on. He barely had a chance to turn the door handle before several men burst in.

"What's the matter? What's – " Ibi never finished his question before he was wrestled to the ground and handcuffed.

Daniel held his hands up, which simply made it easier for a burly red haired agent in a green jacket to cuff his hands behind him.

"Daniel Akindele?" the agent inquired brusquely.

He nodded in answer.

"You are under arrest for violation of the terms of your visa. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you are not a U.S. citizen, you may contact your country's consulate prior to questioning…" the agent rapidly ran through the list.

What had happened?

"…do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

Daniel could not understand anything. He tried to focus. "Please. Let me at least cover myself," he pleaded, indicating his nakedness with his eyes.

"Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?" the agent repeated.

"No. I am sorry, but I do not understand…"

The red haired man began again: "You have the right to remain silent…."

Meanwhile two other agents were methodically searching the suite, what for he couldn't guess. He heard a nasty, low chuckle from one of them when the tube of lubricant he and Ibi had used was found. "Had a hot time last night, boys? Faggots."

Daniel saw other people pass by in the hall, other guests. He looked away, ashamed.

"Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?" Again, the wretched agent was pestering him with that question.

"I'm sorry…what have I done? Please tell me."

"Do you understand? Yes or no?" there was frustration in the voice of the agent behind him.

"Where is my husband?"

"Yes or no, sir, yes or no?"

"No. I do not understand any of this. Where have you taken my husband?"

"Oh, Jesus. Sir!" the man behind him called out.

Another agent, one of those searching the room stepped over to him. This one was taller, clean shaven. Short haircut with a receding hairline. His name badge displayed "Kraus" in white letters.

"Doesn't understand his rights," the red haired one muttered.

"Daniel Akindele?"

"Yes."

"Nigerian national?"

"Yes."

"You speak English?"

Stung, Daniel replied, "of course."

"Good. Now agent O'Connell is going to read you your rights one more time. Pay attention." He turned away, as his rights were recited a third time.

He tried to listen, and Daniel at least grasped that he could have a lawyer. How could he get a lawyer? Stephen said he knew of one, but how to call Stephen?

When asked again if he understood his rights, he replied in the affirmative. Then he asked again: "Please, where is my husband?"

"Husband? What do you mean, husband?" agent O'Connell asked harshly.

"I have wallets, ID, some documents, but nothing else here, sir," the third agent yelled.

"All right, get him dressed and let's get out of here," agent Kraus sighed.

Even as Daniel asked about where Ibi had been taken yet again, he was roughly wrestled into his trousers from a day earlier. Shoes were shoved onto his feet; no socks. Grasped roughly by his left arm, he was hauled out of the room. It was eight eleven in the morning, by the bedside clock. A few doors down the corridor, their little group stopped and waited at an open door. Here Ibi appeared, being handled by still another green-clad agent. Daniel's heart leapt. Ibi was at least safe and unharmed.

They all proceeded downstairs in the same luxurious elevator that had taken them up the evening before. When the door opened on the ground floor, the agent in charge – Kraus – led the way across the spacious lobby, followed by the Daniel, Ibi and their handlers. But as they neared the door, they were met by another, singular individual.

A solidly built man in a sharp business suit intercepted Agent Kraus and the entourage trailing him. Tan skin. Higher cheekbones. He was a Native American, clearly.

"Good morning, Agent. What brings you here today?" he had long jet black hair, pulled back in a long pony tail hanging down past his shoulders.

"Nothing, just routine. Excuse us."

The sharply dressed man didn't move. "May I have your identification, please, Agent…Kraus?"

"And who are you?"

"I'm Emmett Blueye. I represent the Seneca Nation, whose land you are standing on this morning. May I see your identification please?"

At this, Agent Kraus paused and seemed to think for a moment. By now they were attracting the attention of a number of persons in the lobby. Eventually, he dug out his badge and ID and flipped it open for inspection. Daniel looked around nervously. He couldn't imagine what was about to happen.

By then four more uniformed men had joined Emmett Blueye. Daniel noticed one of their jackets had 'Tribal Police' emblazoned on it.

"You're new in the Falls, aren't you, Agent Kraus?" Emmett Blueye asked softly.

"Yes, what of it?" Kraus replied testily.

"So perhaps you've forgotten that when you walked in the door, you entered the sovereign territory of the Seneca Nation of Indians. Do you remember our agreement with the federal authorities?" Kraus must have looked blank, because Blueye went on gently, but very firmly. "If federal authorities suspect an individual of interest is on Seneca Nation land, then the federal authorities contact our tribal police. Tribal police will apprehend the suspects and, if the Seneca Nation judges it wise, the suspects will be turned over to federal agents. Federal agents may not operate on Seneca Nation land without permission."

"That's ridiculous. I've got these two…"

"Your superiors have already been notified that you crossed into the Seneca Nation without authorisation, Agent Kraus." Blueye might have been smiling, or he might not. But there was steel in his voice. "You can turn your suspects over to the tribal police standing here. We guarantee they will remain here in the Seneca Nation. We'll call you as soon as it is decided what to do with them."

The two men, Kraus and Blueye stood, frozen, one staring the other down. Kraus blinked.

"All right, you take them," Kraus said sourly.

Four tribal officers moved swiftly to take custody of Daniel and Ibi. For some reason, Daniel felt relieved.

"Oh, and Agent Kraus? I'll need their documents and identification." Emmett Blueye turned the screws a little.

Sighing, the agent turned them over, too. "I'll expect to hear from you in a couple of hours," Agent Kraus said briskly as his men retreated through the glass doors.

"I'll call you when the leaders decide what is to be done."

When the last Immigration Agent had left the building, Blueye turned to the group. "Let's go to my office."

Moments later, Daniel and Ibi found themselves in a comfortable but sparsely appointed office. Emmett Blueye seated himself at his desk.

"You can take their cuffs off," he directed the officers who remained. To Daniel and Ibi, he said, "Sit, gentlemen, please."

Bewildered at this turn of events, they took a seat.

"I assume you are guests of the hotel?"

Daniel nodded. "Yes. Room 1218."

Blueye turned to one of the officers. "Could you have someone bring these gentlemen some clothes from their room?" He turned again to the pair. "You are now guests of the Seneca Nation, at least until we know what to do with you."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. What would they do with them?

"Maybe you could help me by explaining what the Immigration Control agents want with you," Blueye said amiably.

"I don’t know," started Ibi, but Daniel interrupted.

"They wanted me. They were arresting me for…" he tried to remember, "…a visa violation, I think he said."

"A visa violation? Are these your ID and documents?" Blueye indicated the pile if items on his desk.

Daniel nodded.

Emmett Blueye picked up a passport off the desk, flipped it open and inspected it. He looked at Ibi. "You are Ibrahim Diallo?"

"That's right," Ibi replied. "My Green Card is in there somewhere, too, I hope."

Blueye sorted through the pile again. "Here it is. Yes. And Immigration wanted you for what?"

"Nothing. They kept asking me questions about Daniel, and I told them over and over, he's my husband, and he works for his cousin. But they…"

"Mr. Akindele here is your husband?"

"Yes," interjected Daniel, firmly. "I'm his husband."

The Seneca representative suppressed a smile, then frowned. He pulled Daniel's documents from the pile. He subjected them to a minute's scrutiny. "Well, I'm not an immigration lawyer, but I don't see anything wrong with these." There was a knock on the door. Their clothes had arrived. Emmett Blueye sighed. "Look. You can get dressed in here. I'm going to send you up to a different room. There will be a Tribal Officer outside your door, but we'll try to make you comfortable. Breakfast will be sent to you. I'll hang on to these," and he picked up the pile of papers on his desk, "but I'm going to try to sort this out. I'll let you know what's going to happen."

Daniel heaved a sigh of relief. At least there was hope.

"Get the senator on the phone," Daniel overheard Blueye telling someone, "he needs to know we don't take it kindly when Immigration doesn't respect Seneca territory."

Then the door closed, and they were alone. He turned to embrace Ibi.

"Are you all right Are you hurt?" Ibi asked anxiously.

"I'm fine, love. Much better now," Daniel replied, drawing Ibi into a kiss.

Five hours and two room service meals later, there was a knock on the door of new suite to which they had been taken. Emmett Blueye and another tribal officer entered.

"Well, Mr. Akindele, Mr. Diallo" the Seneca representative smiled expansively, "you are free to go. It seems Agent Kraus got a second opinion from someone higher up at Immigration Control. He went back and did a little more investigating –something he should have done first – he got a bad tip from someone with a grudge."

He returned their papers and documents.

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Blueye," Daniel practically wept. "You saved my life. Our lives."

"Please, call me Emmett. It seems your cousin fired you, Mr. Akindele, but someone conveniently forgot you have ninety days to get another job."

"What can I do to repay you?" Daniel asked.

"Honestly, nothing. But if you need a job, I can recommend you to a friend of mine."

"Why would you do this?" Ibi challenged.

Blueye shrugged. "Because I can’t help wanting to stick people like Agent Kraus and your cousins in the eye. And because we're supposed to help each other out in this world, right?"

And everyone smiled.

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Five o'clock on a warm summer evening, and Daniel Akindele waited anxiously for his husband to come home. Six months ago, they had married, and in the days since their tumultuous wedding, Daniel and Ibi had found new jobs, a new home, and more love than they had ever imagined possible. As soon as Ibi arrived, they were going to take a long weekend to meet friends. It would be their first vacation since they married.

A cab would take them to the train station, and the train would get them to Utica before midnight. Emmett Blueye and Nate, his fiancée, would meet them there; they'd stay at a nearby casino resort run by the Oneida Nation.

Daniel supposed there would be gambling, but he wasn't worried. He'd already made the best bet of his life by claiming Ibi as his own.