I caught myself on a rough outcropping of granite. The rock I planted my foot on had looked solid, but as soon as I put weight down, it shifted forward, almost spilling me into a very unpleasant cactus. I had hiked these boulders as a kid, but never at night. Even the full moon didn’t provide enough light to make all the potential pitfalls visible. So, I made my way slowly.

The light from the campsite had disappeared behind me a few minutes ago. I planned to walk in an arc around the camp. I didn’t know what direction my father had gone, so I had to cover as much ground as I could. While not killing myself or ending up with a face full of cholla cactus, that is.

My father had to be out here. His car was here, he had been in the camp at least a day. He had to be nearby. I didn’t want to imagine the alternative. No, I was going to find him, healthy and whole. And then we would get out.

I wondered if I was making a mistake with Jason. We had a connection, that was undeniable. I felt so good around him that it seemed like I might burst from thinking about him. But was I tricking myself? I mean, I had only been around him during this mad time. We had been on the run and fighting for our lives. And the contrast to my life in that apartment might be coloring my impression of him. After all, I was feeling great because I was breathing free air, I was not struggling for breath under Kovalev’s sweaty bulk. And the sex with Jason was, well, a revelation.

But what did that all mean for us? Did we really have the basis of a relationship? Was he someone I would want to be with in six months? A year? He had clearly done some bad things. While he seemed to be regretful, he had still done them. Was he really trustworthy?

His face swam up in front of me, tinged silver by the light of the full moon. Yea, he was worth the risk. I just wish I knew how much of a risk I was taking.

I was halfway around my half-circle when I heard a shout. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. It was coming from the campsite. I turned and made my way there as fast as I could.

Ignoring a scrape on my elbow and a bump on my knee, I scrambled up the low wall of boulders surrounding the campsite. My father was there. Pointing a gun at Jason.

“Dad! Stop!” I shouted.

He turned to look at me and then was tackled by Jason almost instantly. By the time I had hopped down onto the pounded sand of the camp, Jason had disarmed him and was now pointing the gun at him.

“What the hell are you doing? Put that thing down this instant!”

Jason dropped his arm to his side, but he didn’t let go of the gun.

I raced over to where my dad was lying. By the light of the lantern, I could see that he had a trickle of blood running down his arm from a nasty looking gash.

“Go get the first aid kit!” I shouted at Jason. His footsteps receded quickly as he ran to the car.

“Claire! I can’t believe it is you. You’re safe! Thank God.”

“I’m ok, Dad. I’m ok. Jason helped me escape.”

His face hardened. Shifting himself up with his good arm, he shook his head violently.

“You have to get rid of him. He’s no good, Claire. If he got you out, he’s got some other motive.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know him, Claire. He works for Kovalev.”

“Oh, I know that. But he’s out now. We had to get away from Kovalev’s thugs to get here. They were waiting for us at your house.”

“He is one of Kovalev’s thugs, don’t you understand?”

“He used to be one. Not anymore.”

My dad grunted, clearly not convinced. He lifted his hand, palm upward, displaying the thin line of a recently healed cut from what appeared to be a very sharp knife.

“Nobody who would do this is anything but a thug. I don’t care if he doesn’t work for Kovalev anymore, he is who he is. He is what he’s done.”

I was gobsmacked. Silent. How could he have done this? I knew he was an enforcer, and I guess I thought I knew what that entailed. But, seeing the evidence on my own father was like a kick to the gut.

At that moment, Jason reappeared in the campsite, black zippered first aid kit in hand. My face must have been expressing exactly what I felt because he recoiled from me as if I were a rattlesnake.

“You…you…” A list of insults flew through my head, but I couldn’t settle on one. “How could you?” I pointed to my father’s scarred hand.

Embarrassment flickered across Jason’s face, but was quickly replaced by a blank, guarded expression.

“I didn’t know he was your father.”

“Oh, and that makes a difference? How could you do that to anyone?”

He knelt there, silent, his face as hard as the granite around us.

“I don’t want to see you right now. You need to leave.”

“Claire, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t give a shit! Just get out of here.”

Without another word, he stood up and stalked back to the car. The engine roared to life and, in an instant, the sound disappeared into the empty desert.

“You did the right thing,” my father said, slowly getting to his feet.

“Come on, let me get this cleaned up.”

I washed the dirt out of his wound and wrapped it in gauze. He refused to let me take him to the hospital, insisting that he would be fine in that inexpressibly frustrating faux machismo.

“I just need to rest,” is all he would allow.

Suddenly the events of the day seemed to catch up to me all at once and I felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over me. We both climbed into the tent. My father insisted I take the sleeping bag, wrapping himself in an extra coat. I started to tell him about all the things that had happened since I was taken to the auction, but I had barely gotten started when I dropped into a deep sleep.