LIL SCRUBBED A HAND over her face, wondering if the man standing next to her was an illusion. “Trevor?”
He frowned down at her. “Brian said I had to tell someone.” His words slurred slightly and Lil could smell liquor on him. Trevor never drank, except for a couple of beers. Something must be wrong, she thought, noting the grim lines carved into his handsome face.
“What happened to Raquel?” she asked, reaching over and switching on the lamp. The light it offered was soft, yet allowed Lil to clearly see the man at her side—from his slightly rumpled dress shirt and tie that was a bit cockeyed, to the ever-changing emotions flashing across his face and messy hair. He looked like a man who had been mugged.
Or thoroughly made love to. The thought burned its way into her brain.
Trevor waved
