Page 2 of Midnight Rebel

She hesitates, then sighs. “It’s complicated, Colton. There are whispers in town.”

“Whispers about what?” I lean forward, my instincts on high alert.

“Some people think the Midnight Riders might be involved. Trying to scare away business.”

I clench my jaw, anger flaring. “That’s bullshit. The club would never?—“

“I know, dear,” she interrupts, her voice soothing. “I’ve told everyone who’ll listen that it’s nonsense. But people talk. Especially when strange things start happening.”

No wonder she looked worried when I mentioned bringing in my “associates.”

“Is that why you’re nervous about the guys helping with security?”

Mom’s shoulders slump slightly. “I trust your judgment, Colton. I know they’re good men. But with these rumors...”

I stand, pacing the room. “The Riders have done more for this town than most of those gossiping busybodies.”

“I know, dear. But perception?—”

“Screw perception,” I growl. Then, seeing her wince, I soften my tone. “Look, Mom. I’ll get to the bottom of what’s really going on here. And the guys will be discreet at the ball. No one will even know they’re there.”

She nods, relief evident in her eyes. “Thank you, Colton. I want everything to go smoothly.”

I walk over and squeeze her shoulder gently. “It will. I promise.”

Mom’s eyes dart away, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “One more thing.”

A fresh wave of tension courses through me. I brace myself, sensing more bad news. “What is it?”

“The press has been calling,” she says, her voice tight. “Wanting interviews about the accidents. I’ve been refusing their requests, of course.”

The last thing we need is reporters sniffing around, stirring up more rumors. “You did the right thing, Mom. Don’t talk to any reporters. I’ll handle security for the ball and look into these accidents.”

“Thank you.”

Her gratitude makes me uneasy. “It’s what I’m here for,” I say, kissing her cheek. “I’ll catch up with you later,” I tell Mom, carefully masking the tension in my voice.

My mind races with conflicting thoughts. How long will this take? I’d only planned a short break from work, and Apex Solutions’ clients aren’t patient.

I push those concerns aside. There’s no use worrying about work when the estate needs my attention.

My phone buzzes as I swing my leg over my bike, ready to head out and clear my head.

I pull it out, grimacing when I see the caller ID: Garrett Hayes, my boss at Apex Solutions. I frown, leaning against the bike.

“Montgomery.” Garrett’s tone is all business. “Situation. Need you to handle it.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m on leave, remember? The Manor?—“

“This concerns The,” he cuts in. “A journalist, Autumn Clarke, is digging into the recent incidents.”

An inexplicable flutter of interest stirs in my gut. Autumn. Pretty name. “And this is Apex’s problem because...?”

There’s a pause. When Garrett speaks again, his voice is lower. “She’s Skylar’s friend. My girlfriend would be upset if anything happened to her.”

Skylar. Garrett’s kryptonite. I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard enough to know he’s wrapped around her little finger. Poor bastard.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, suppressing a groan. Garrett pulled me out of a dark place once. But this is the last thing I need.

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