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My telephone rings again and Brody swears before snatching it up from the nightstand. “Always answer your phone if it rings in the middle of the night.”
“Excuse me. I’m the responsible one here. Not you.”
He doesn’t respond as he hands me my phone.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Harmony says. “I need your help.”
At the word ‘help’, all thoughts of Brody and his body and the cuddling I’m allegedly doing at night fly out of my mind. I roll out of bed. “Of course. I’m on my way.”
She giggles. “Don’t you want to know what help I need first?”
“Not unless you need me to bring a shovel to bury a body.”
“If she needs help burying Elder, I’ll bring an extra shovel,” Brody says.
“Do I hear Brody?” Harmony asks.
“He’s a guest in my house or have you forgotten?”
“He sounds awful close.” She gasps. “Holy bats of Gotham! You twoaresleeping in the same bed. This is awesome.”
“Is there an actual emergency or did you phone to get the scoop to use for your bet on Project Cub?” I growl.
“Oh, there’s an emergency,andI will be using this information to place my bet.”
“What’s the emergency?” I ask because from here on out I’m pretending the bet doesn’t exist. Project Cub? What’s that? Never heard of it.
“I’m having problems with a very naughty llama.”
I giggle “Lucy never learns her lesson, does she?”
“I wish,” she mutters. “She escaped the refuge. Again. Maybe we should set her free. She deserves her freedom. But she’s used to being fed several times a day. I don’t know if she’d make it on her own. Besides, llamas aren’t native to North America, and she—”
“Maybe we should discuss finding Lucy now and you can have an existential crisis about whether animals should be in cages later.”
She blows out a breath. “You’re right. Can you search the area south of the refuge? I’m heading north.”
“Got it,” I say and hang up.
I hurry toward my dresser to dig out some clothes but stop when I notice Brody snatch a pair of sweatpants from the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Duh. Coming with you.”
“But you don’t even know where I’m going or what I’m doing.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I know you’re going out in the middle of the night to help a friend. I don’t need to know more.”
“Lucy the llama escaped the refuge again,” I explain.
“That llama is a menace,” he grumbles as he marches toward the hallway with his clothes in his hands. When I stand there staring at him like a ninny, he stops and glances over his shoulder at me. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re coming to help?”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course, I am.”
