Page 3 of Midnight Rebel

“I appreciate what you did for me after... everything. But I’m here to help my mom, sort out this mess, and get back to work. Not babysit some reporter.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” His voice softens. “Consider it a special assignment. Full pay, plus bonuses. Keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

I consider telling him to handle his girlfriend’s friend on his own. But the memory of Garrett’s support during my darkest days resurfaces. I owe him.

“Fine,” I growl. “But I’m not your errand boy, Hayes. This is a one-time deal.”

“Understood. Take all the time you need. And don’t fuck it up.”

The line goes dead. I stare at the phone, tempted to hurl it across the parking lot. Great. Stuck in Midnight Falls indefinitely. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I gun the engine, the roar drowning out everything else. I push it all away, letting the wind steal the weight off my shoulders.

Twenty minutes later, I pull up to a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of town. I rap out a specific knock pattern on the steel door, which swings open.

“Ghost,” Phoenix grunts as I enter. “About time.”

I clap his shoulder. “Miss me?”

The clubhouse envelops me in familiar scents—leather, grease, and stale beer. A fire crackles in the hearth, mingling with the soft pop of cooling engines outside. Worn couches and a massive bar line the walls, adorned with bike parts and faded flags.

Hawk calls from the pool table, “Look who decided to grace us with his presence!”

I flip him off, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders easing. These rough, scarred bikers are more like my family to me.

Grabbing a beer, I settle at the bar. Here, I’m not Colton Montgomery, reluctant heir. I’m just Ghost, brother, and Sergeant-at-Arms.

Phoenix raises his bottle. “Thought mommy dearest would keep you longer.”

I snort. “Give me some credit. I can handle my mother.”

“So,” he says, his voice low. “What’s the deal with this fancy-ass party tomorrow night?”

I drain half my beer before answering, the weight of my responsibilities settling back on my shoulders. “Annual Halloween masquerade ball at The Manor. Mom’s concerned about security. There’s been a string of incidents lately that have her on edge.”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “I heard some rumors, but not the specifics.”

I brief him on the “accidents,” cancelations, and bad press. His scowl deepens with each detail.

“You think someone’s targeting the place?” he asks, slamming his beer on the table.

“Maybe. Either way, we’re providing extra security. Throw some extra muscle into the mix.”

Hawk lets out a low whistle. “Guess things are finally heating up at the ol’ spooky mansion, huh?”

Phoenix barks out a laugh. “Us? At the fancy-ass shindig? You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.” I smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re wearing penguin suits and hiding your ugly mugs behind masks. No complaints.”

He lunges across the table, catching me with a solid punch to the arm. “Screw you, asshole. I look great in a tux.”

“Keep telling yourself that, big guy,” I chuckle, rubbing my arm. The banter feels good, a momentary distraction from the weight of everything else.

Hawk saunters over, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Another year, another fancy ball, huh, Ghost? At least this time, we’re invited instead of sneaking in via the tradesman’s entrance.”

I groan. “I appreciate you guys backing me up.”

Phoenix claps me on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back, brother. Even if it’s at some stuffy party.”

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