Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(42)

He took another swallow of the fine liquor as he waited for Wayne to return so that he could assign him another task.





Chapter 21



Alec Harris finished his glass of Scotch as he sat in the dark, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the front door, waiting for his daughter to come home. He ground his teeth in frustration. Sophie was already three hours past her curfew.

He knew she did it purposely to piss him off. But he wasn’t in the mood for it, not tonight—not any night. He was already on edge after the assault on the LAC. The last thing he wanted was a battle of wills against his own daughter.

Sophie was headstrong, stubborn, and wilful and knew how to push him to the limit in a matter of seconds. She had also inherited more than her fair share of sass from her mother. The things he loved about his wife he hated in his daughter and it was just his luck to have passed on his shortcomings to Sophie.

He glanced at the small illuminated clock on the DVD player nearby and his blood boiled. If she had been a few years younger he would’ve tanned her hide for such insolence. She knew he wouldn’t tolerate her being late home. The cop in him only enforced the insecurities of the father.

He knew full well what went on after dark and had no desire to see Sophie caught up in it. Why couldn’t she just see that he was doing his best to protect her by asking her to follow such simple rules as being home at ten o’clock?

He’d sent Caitlyn to bed an hour and a half ago and his heart ached at the worried look on her face. She was always concerned when he and Sophie argued and knew without a doubt they would argue tonight. Neither of them were able to give an inch and both of them always stood toe to toe. He had a temper and Sophie was a match to his fuel.

If only he could assure Caitlyn he wouldn’t lose his cool, but the honest man in him knew it was more than likely he would be lying. Just one more year and she’d be eighteen. She’d already told him she couldn’t wait to escape his rules, and that she wouldn’t heed them anymore.

Alec knew she planned on leaving home the moment she became an adult. It was his fault. It irked him that even when he tried to meet her half-way she pushed him into grounding her for weeks—hell, even months.

He would always worry about his daughter, no matter how old she got, no matter how capable she was. She was his little girl. Nothing could change that.

The lock clicked nearby and he instantly became alert. His stomach twisted in knowledge of the confrontation about to take place.

Sophie, the spitting image of her mother at the same age—all blue eyes and blonde hair—came through the front door, her hair cut severely at the shoulders on a jagged angle. She held her shoes in her hands and was trying not to make any noise.

“A bit late, isn’t it?” Alec asked from the shadows.

Sophie jumped. “I thought it was early, actually,” she countered and his restraint slipped.

She always seemed to have a quip at the ready and always had to have the last word.

“Don’t push me, girl,” he warned. “One of these days I’m going to bug your phone with my own GPS and show up wherever the hell you are and drag you home kicking and screaming.”

She squared her shoulders, preparing herself for battle, and Alec inwardly sighed.

“I’m not a child,” she declared defiantly.

“You’re my child. You think I like waiting up for you? Do you think I love our little wars each night? Because I don’t, Sophie. I’m damn well tired of them.”

“Well then, go to bed,” she said, as if that was the ultimate answer.

“I wish I could. But as a parent I wouldn’t be able to relax until I knew you were home safe. Don’t you have any regard for me at all? Do you like knowing I’m worried about you?”

“Of course not!” Sophie yelled and crossed her arms under her breasts in a defensive gesture. “But I can take care of myself. I’m not stupid and I’m always careful. I never accepts drinks or lifts from strangers. I never go out alone but God, Dad, you smother me with your rules.”

“You’ve been drinking?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s all you heard. Not alcohol, Dad, just soft drinks.”

“You don’t know what it’s like for me, Soph. I’m a cop. I know what goes on out there. I’ve seen too many little girls never return home from a night out, too many parents broken hearted at having to identify their child’s remains at the morgue. Hell, even Harbour Bay isn’t safe anymore.”

Why couldn’t he have had a nice, non-troublesome daughter like his goddaughter? The daughter of Caitlyn’s childhood friend, Bethany Bennett, was a few years older than Sophie and never gave her father grey hairs or mini heart-attacks. Not that her father would notice if she did. Bethany was very low on Dirk Bennett’s list of priorities.

Poor kid. Alec had been surprised she had grown up in to the wonderful well-adjusted woman she was and not into some raging lunatic, or one of those girls who pierced everything in sight and had multi-coloured punk hair. While some might see her life as gifted, he knew it hadn’t always been pleasant.

But Bethany was not his problem. Sophie was.

“Many people go through life untouched,” she told him.

“And many don’t.”

“I wasn’t alone, okay? Colin was with me. I was perfectly safe.”