Page 26 of Midnight Rebel

Could it be Frank? He’s always lurking, and he clearly has issues with Colt and the way The Manor is run.

I lean back in my chair, the weight of this new information settling over me. The plot is thickening, and I’m not sure I like where it’s leading.

As I’m about to dive back into the financial records, voices drift in from the hallway, catching my attention.

Colt’s deep timbre reaches my ears first. “Thanks for coming at short notice. Send me the quote and tell me when you can get started on the work.”

An unfamiliar voice replies, “I’ll get you something by first thing tomorrow morning.”

“The sooner, the better,” Colt replies.

“It’s stable for now,” the other man assures him. “It will hold, but you’re right to fix it right away before the damage gets worse.”

Curiosity piqued, I quickly pack up my things and head for the door. As I step into the hallway, I catch sight of Frank barreling toward Colt, their voices low but their body language speaking volumes.

With shoulders squared and jaw clenched, Frank advances on Colt, emphasizing each point with a sharp prod of his finger.

“What was Jake doing here? I didn’t book anyone from Clearwater Construction for a callout. Jake is the most expensive contractor in the area.”

Colt’s jaw clenches as he responds, visibly straining to keep his cool. “Slow down, Frank. I called Jake because he’s an expert at reinforcing work after helping us with a problem at the clubhouse.”

Frank scoffs at the mention of the clubhouse. Colt’s hands ball into fists at his sides, and for a moment, I worry he might take a swing at the older man.

“The tunnels need work,” Colt grits out.

“Of course they do,” Frank sneers. “If you catch me up to speed, I can assist.”

I watch as Colt shoves his clenched fists into his pockets, clearly trying to rein in his temper. “It’s under control. But thanks.”

Frank’s next words carry clearly down the hall, dripping with insinuation. “So now you’re taking an interest? On account of her? The reporter?”

Colt’s hand shoots out of his pocket in a sharp “stop” gesture. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Mr. Wells,” he says, his voice dropping dangerously. “The Manor is my responsibility.”

“Funny way to show your loyalty,” Frank hisses. “You’re never here to look after your responsibilities, are you?”

I strain to hear Colt’s response, my heart racing at the tension in the air.

When he speaks, his tone is clipped and icy. “If you’re insinuating that I’m shirking my responsibilities, I suggest you stop now. And kindly remind me of your role here, Mr. Wells.”

Frank scoffs, but Colt presses on. “Your job title?”

“Estate manager,” Frank mutters begrudgingly.

“That’s right. You are the caretaker,” Colt says firmly. “While I appreciate your service, please stick to your role and step aside when I do mine.”

“Suits you, doesn’t it?” Frank spits back.

Colt’s voice drops to a menacing growl, reminiscent of our first encounter in the gardens during the masquerade ball.

“You may get away with behavior like that around my mother, Mr. Wells, but I suggest you watch your tone around me.”

Their voices lower to an indecipherable murmur, but the tension is palpable. Moments later, Frank’s footsteps echo sharply as he storms down the hall.

Now more than ever, I’m convinced I need to keep quiet about my suspicions. Colt is under immense pressure; I won’t add to his burden until I have irrefutable proof.

As Frank disappears around the corner, Colt’s gaze finds mine. His face softens immediately, a smile replacing the scowl as he approaches me.

I lean against the door jamb, trying to appear casual. “What’s got up his nose today?” I ask lightly. “His panties are in a twist over something.”

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