All he could hear was the sound of disappointment ricocheting around the inside of his chest like a pinball.
“There. He’s in the freezer.” She grabbed Decker by the shoulders. “He’s going after my ice cream. Don’t let him get the ice cream.”
“Seriously?”
“Dead. Board meeting adjourned. Now, go get ’em, Thor.”
“Board meeting paused. We will come back to this.” He stood, grabbed the crowbar and stepped out from the bushes. With a fortifying pause he glanced through the garage window. And Poppy was right, Backpack had his head stuck in the freezer.
Knowing he had the element of surprise on his side, Decker jerked the door open and jumped into the room.
“Hey!” he shouted, but the punk was already on the move, racing out the side door. Decker was hot on his heels. He’d barely made it through the threshold when he heard the chain-link fence rattle. Backpack was trying to flee the scene.
He should have let it go. He really should have. Had it been his house, and the situation were different, he would have. But this was Poppy’s aunt’s place, and he didn’t want to think of the million-and-one reasons someone would run, fleeing from her house after hiding in the shadows. Unless they were guilty of something.
“Stop!” he called out.
Backpack did the exact opposite, sprinting toward the fence and going up and over. Decker was shocked the guy was so agile with his jeans pulled so low on his hips.
With a battle cry meant to intimidate, Decker swung the crowbar over his head like he was inBraveheartand took off after him. He vaulted the fence in one move, crashing down on his knee when he landed.
“Motherfucker!” he groaned.
Breathing through the pain, he got down the drive right as Backpack ran across the side lawn. He might be built like a linebacker, but Decker still had a couple of inches and twenty pounds on him. He also was faster, allowing him to run the guy down. Before the prick could disappear into the night Decker grabbed the pocket of the backpack and yanked down. The guy came crashing to the ground. He scrambled to his feet and started to run when Decker snagged the back of the hoodie and tugged him to a stop.
“Stop fighting, you’re only making it worse on yourself. The cops are on their way,” he lied.
“Shit!” the prowler said, and that’s when he realized that Backpack wasn’t just any delinquent—it was his nephew. His nephew who should be studying in a dorm at UCLA, where he was taking summer classes.
“Miles?” he asked and immediately let him loose.
“Uncle Decker?” He looked so young in his hoodie and jeans. His hair was messed up from the fight and his eyes were wide and scared.
Decker righted the kid’s sweatshirt. “You okay?”
“No. You tore my backpack,” he said.
“You broke into a closed set and ran.”
“I thought you were security or something. I mean you came out all wild swinging a crowbar. I thought you were going to kill me.”
Decker put a hand to his beating heart. “Christ, Miles. What are you doing here?”
“I was trying to get ahold of you, but Brian said you didn’t have access to a phone.”
“It’s called a closed set. Why were you in the garage?”
“Looking for something to eat.”
Decker laughed. His nephew could pack away some serious food. “There’s nothing in the fridge.”
A voice came from behind them. “What we do have is a front door. With a bell. Why not use that instead of, oh I don’t know, scaring people to death.”
Decker looked at Poppy, who was standing behind him now, with his crowbar over her head. She gave Miles a little wiggle of the fingers. “Hi. I’m Poppy Hart.”
“I know who you are,” Miles said, and Poppy’s chest puffed out with pride at the fact that a teenager knew who she was. Decker took the crowbar out of Poppy’s hand and slowly lowered it to her side.
“You said you were hungry? There’s some ice cream bars in the freezer,” she offered sweetly.
