sound, spurring him on. He sealed his mouth over the curve of her neck and, holy fucking hell, she ground her ass harder against him.
Her skin was sweet and hot and so damn delicious he trailed kisses up her neck and nipped her earlobe just hard enough to get her attention as he practically growled, “Turn around.”
Her eyes met his with the heat of a thousand suns. She was breathless and flushed, and for the first time ever she appeared completely unguarded. But as quickly as that sight registered, Chloe lifted her chin with a glimmer of victory in her eyes. How she snapped out of that lust-induced state so fast was beyond him. But he was right there with her, feeling triumphant for achieving that momentary peek at the unguarded beauty. He met every sway of her hips with a celebratory grind of his own.
“All night long, sweet thing,” he said, earning an extra-sinful grin. The images of her breathless and vulnerable had seared into his mind right beside the one of the victorious glimmer in her eyes. He’d finally gotten under her skin, even if only for a moment.
His phone rang with Preacher’s ringtone, and for the first time in his adult life, he wanted to ignore it. He wanted to stay right there, with Chloe’s sexy body writhing against him, drinking in the incredible I-want-you look in her eyes. It wasn’t lost on him that the other night he’d thought her date was an idiot for taking a call and here he was preparing to answer one himself.
But club and family came first.
Always.
Fuck. He pulled the phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. “Yeah?” He continued dancing despite the disapproving look in Chloe’s eyes.
“It’s Grandpa,” Preacher said. “He’s in the hospital.”
Justin’s gut seized. “I’m on my way.” He shoved his phone in his pocket, kissed Chloe’s cheek, and said, “Sorry, gorgeous. I’ve got to go,” and headed for the table, where Gavin was sitting with Jett.
Gavin turned as he approached. “Hey, man, you two—”
“I’ve got to take off. Make sure Chloe gets home okay for me?”
“You know I will. Everything okay?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve got to go. Thanks, man.” Justin glanced over his shoulder on his way to the door and saw Chloe watching him with a mix of concern and disbelief.
He gritted his teeth. Worry for his grandfather warred with the desire burning through his veins. He pushed through the door, and the cool night air brought reality rushing in. As he climbed on his bike, the fear of losing Mike overshadowed everything else.
Chapter Five
JUSTIN STOOD BESIDE Mike’s hospital bed between Preacher and Conroy, holding his grandfather’s frail hand. The Dark Knights had shown up en masse, filling Mike’s room and spilling into the hallway. Mike had fallen and hit his head on a counter. Seven stitches and several tests later, they were keeping him in the hospital overnight for observation.
“Tell these guys I’m fine and take me home, will you, Maverick?” Mike said in a craggy voice. “I don’t need doctors poking at me.”
At seventy-nine years old, Mike Wicked was just as ornery as ever. With wispy gray hair, a square jaw, thin lips, and blue-gray eyes, he was a dead ringer for Clint Eastwood in his and Justin’s favorite movie, Gran Torino. They’d watched it together too many times to count. But the tough old man looked slight and pale in the hospital gown with a bandage on his head.
“No can do, Gramps,” Justin said more casually than he felt. His heart had lodged in his throat on his way to the hospital, and it wasn’t until he’d seen and spoken to Mike that the oppressive clouds of doom had lifted enough for him to breathe properly again. “You gave us quite a scare and we need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I just wanted some ice cream,” Mike grumbled. “If the damn dog hadn’t been in my way, I’d have been fine.”
That was Mike’s story, that he’d tripped over one of Preacher’s dogs. But according to Preacher, the dogs weren’t in the kitchen at the time.
Preacher and Conroy exchanged a worried glance.
“We’ll have ice cream tomorrow night, Grandpa. I promise.” Madigan pushed between Preacher and Justin and said, “Right, Mav? We’ll get him his favorite flavor from the Cape Cone.”
“Absolutely, Mads.” Justin put his arm around her, hugging her against his side. Madigan was seven years younger than Justin. She’d been only four years old when he moved in,