Midnight Rebel (Midnight Falls, Texas)

Chapter 1

Colt

The rumble of my Harley echoes off the cobblestone streets of Midnight Falls as I roll into town. Carved pumpkins leer from every windowsill, their flickering grins a mockery of welcome.

It’s as if the whole damn place is frozen in time, perpetually celebrating Halloween.

I gun the engine, the roar ricocheting between buildings as I turn onto the winding drive leading to The Manor. The old place looms ahead, a gothic monstrosity against the darkening sky.

Ivy chokes its stone walls, and cobwebs cling to every corner. Jack-o’-lanterns line the steps, their carved smiles twisted and mocking.

The familiar weight of duty and expectation settles on my shoulders as I kill the engine. Before I can even dismount, the massive oak door creaks open as if the house is welcoming its prodigal son home.

Margaret Montgomery steps out, elegant as ever in her blazer and pearls. But the faint lines around her eyes betray her stress.

“Colton, darling, you made it!” Her voice is gentle reprimand laced with relief.

“Hey, Mom.” I step forward, giving her a quick hug. The scent of lavender and lemon furniture polish—smells of my childhood—cling to her clothes. “How’s it going?”

Her heels click on the marble floor as she leads me inside. “Oh, you know. Busy with ball preparations, as always.”

I follow Mom into the parlor. Velvet curtains and grim portraits frame a room frozen in time. Ignoring the ancestors’ judgmental gazes, my eyes lock on a dark stain spreading from the ceiling. The once-rich burgundy curtains hang crooked, faded to rust in spots.

I perch on the edge of a stiff armchair, facing Mom. Her back’s ramrod straight, like always.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Colton. It means a lot,” she says, her voice soft but pointed.

A knot forms in my gut. Should’ve seen this coming. I’ve been dodging this place—and her—for too long. I force a light tone. “Couldn’t miss the big event, right?”

Mom’s smile tightens, not reaching her eyes. “No, I suppose not. Especially not with everything that’s been happening lately.”

I meet her gaze, keeping my expression neutral. “Anything I should know about?”

She sighs, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her slacks. “A chandelier fell in the ballroom last week. Before that, there were electrical issues in the east wing.” Her voice drops. “Probably just the house’s age showing.”

“A chandelier?” My frown deepens, my pulse ticking up. Something’s off here.

“It’s causing quite a stir,” she continues, trying to sound casual. “We’ve had three wedding cancelations this month.” Worry edges into her voice despite her efforts.

Unease settles in my gut. “Isn’t Frank handling the upkeep?”

“Frank’s been working overtime,” Mom says quickly, but her eyes betray her concern.

“How can I help?” The words slip out automatically.

Hope flashes across her face. “Oh, Colton. If you could take a more active role in managing the estate?—”

I cut her off, my voice gruffer than I intended. “Mom, we’ve been over this. I can’t drop everything and move back here.”

She rallies quickly, but I hear the unspoken plea. “Of course, dear. I understand you have your own life with Apex Solutions.”

I grit my teeth, pushing down the familiar guilt and resentment. “I’ll be at the ball. And I’ll have some associates monitoring the grounds in case there’s trouble.”

Mom’s brow furrows. “Associates? Your motorcycle club friends?”

I study Mom’s face, noting the tightness around her eyes, the slight tremble in her hands as she smooths her already-perfect hair. There’s more eating at her than losing business.

“Mom, what’s really going on? I know that look.”

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.

“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.”

As we hash out details, more Riders filter in. The air fills with laughter and bullshit. I try to lose myself in it, but my mind keeps drifting back to the estate, to Garrett’s request, to this mysterious Autumn Clarke.

“Earth to Ghost.” Hawk waves a hand in front of my face. “You still with us, brother?”

I blink, realizing I’ve been staring into space. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

Phoenix gives me a knowing look. “About The Manor? Or something else?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Got a lot on my plate.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Hawk says, raising his beer, “we’ve got your back. To family.”

“To family,” the others echo.

I join in, letting their unwavering support wash over me.

As the night wears on, I settle into the familiar rhythm of MC life. But even as I laugh and joke with my brothers, a part of me remains distracted. Mom, the estate, now this journalist.

It’s what I do—protect people, solve problems. But taking on the The Manor full-time? That’s coming, but I’m not ready to be tied down yet.

Tomorrow’s problems can wait. Tonight, I’m sharing beers and bullshit with my brothers in the MC. Whatever happens, I’ve got these men at my back.

But as Hawk spins another wild tale, my mind wanders. Who is Autumn Clarke? And why is she already under my skin?