him another shot his ability to listen to common sense soon passed. “Seems there's something about the siblings of these Lang brothers. But I only ever knew them to have a sister, Mara. She's dead, though. Car accident outside the court building the day her brother was convicted.”
Naomh intuitively felt the question come up. It felt like one of those questions that had to be asked and answered. “Who was driving?”
Donovan looked down. “I was.” He kept looking at his feet, even as Naomh's hand touched his knee. “She was only 17 or so, still in school I think. Her brothers turned to crime, sacrificed, to get her through some expensive boarding school.” He sighed. “Poor Mara Lang. I couldn't do anything about it, I know that. But it still feels like I might have been able to save her.”
“I knew a Mara Lang.” It was the first time Maria Sedakis felt confident involving herself in the evening’s conversation. “She was a few years ahead of me in the boarding school I attended in Québec,” she remarked. “She died in a car accident. But she can’t be the same person. She had a sister in my class; I don’t remember anyone mentioning brothers.”
Donovan looked at her questioningly. “What was her name?” he asked curiously.
“I think Eva. But she disappeared from the school before her sister was killed. Nobody knew where she went.”
Donovan shook his head and drew his silver case of cigars from his inside pocket. He offered one to Sedakis. “Want one?”
Sedakis shook his head. “She's making me quit.”
Donovan shrugged as he saw Maria nod happily. “Suit yourself.”
As he stood on the terrace at the back of the house, smoking, he heard the door opening. It was Naomh. “You mind if I have a few puffs?” Donovan shook his head and offered her his cigar. She breathed in a large amount of smoke and then suddenly kissed him, breathing the smoke back to him. “Share and share alike, eh,” she said as she broke away from him, running her hands over his cheeks. He looked distracted. “What are you thinking?” she demanded seriously.
“Eva Lang,” he said, staring into the New York woodlands; it was a beautiful part of the state and so close to the city. “She's got to be somewhere, and she's got to be connected to this. But how? And where is she?”
Naomh shrugged. “Well, she's not an A-lister here, or I would have known about it.”
“Suppose you're right,” Donovan said.
When the cigar was finished, they went back in, only to find that Gregoris Sedakis had already taken his wife to bed.
“I do feel a bit sorry for her,” Donovan remarked. “Laboring under that big fat belly.”
Naomh laughed. “Yeah, can't be easy.”
Donovan shrugged. “Ah well, I suppose it's time to head home anyway. “ He began to walk toward the door, but found himself staggering. He swore. The ouzo was obviously having more of an effect than he originally thought it would. But he was not going to let anyone notice that. He turned around and looked at Naomh. “You want a ride?”
Naomh shook her head and walked over to him, grabbing him by the arm. “You're not going anywhere,” she said as she pulled him toward the stairs. “You've had far too much ouzo to drive your flashy Bugatti.”
“Damn you,” Donovan grumbled at her.
Chapter Eight
Donovan woke up the next morning in a lavish bedroom in Sedakis' 18th century colonial home. He was thankful that he was not hungover. He looked around and noticed his clothes were folded on top of a chair in the corner. His boxers were the topmost and as soon as he saw them, he realized he was naked. He looked to the other side of the bed and saw Naomh Walsh there. He lifted the sheets and saw she was naked too, her smooth skin beckoned him to touch her. He surmised something must have happened, but he could not remember anything past cursing her as she forbade him from driving himself home.
Slowly he got out of bed and began to get
Naomh intuitively felt the question come up. It felt like one of those questions that had to be asked and answered. “Who was driving?”
Donovan looked down. “I was.” He kept looking at his feet, even as Naomh's hand touched his knee. “She was only 17 or so, still in school I think. Her brothers turned to crime, sacrificed, to get her through some expensive boarding school.” He sighed. “Poor Mara Lang. I couldn't do anything about it, I know that. But it still feels like I might have been able to save her.”
“I knew a Mara Lang.” It was the first time Maria Sedakis felt confident involving herself in the evening’s conversation. “She was a few years ahead of me in the boarding school I attended in Québec,” she remarked. “She died in a car accident. But she can’t be the same person. She had a sister in my class; I don’t remember anyone mentioning brothers.”
Donovan looked at her questioningly. “What was her name?” he asked curiously.
“I think Eva. But she disappeared from the school before her sister was killed. Nobody knew where she went.”
Donovan shook his head and drew his silver case of cigars from his inside pocket. He offered one to Sedakis. “Want one?”
Sedakis shook his head. “She's making me quit.”
Donovan shrugged as he saw Maria nod happily. “Suit yourself.”
As he stood on the terrace at the back of the house, smoking, he heard the door opening. It was Naomh. “You mind if I have a few puffs?” Donovan shook his head and offered her his cigar. She breathed in a large amount of smoke and then suddenly kissed him, breathing the smoke back to him. “Share and share alike, eh,” she said as she broke away from him, running her hands over his cheeks. He looked distracted. “What are you thinking?” she demanded seriously.
“Eva Lang,” he said, staring into the New York woodlands; it was a beautiful part of the state and so close to the city. “She's got to be somewhere, and she's got to be connected to this. But how? And where is she?”
Naomh shrugged. “Well, she's not an A-lister here, or I would have known about it.”
“Suppose you're right,” Donovan said.
When the cigar was finished, they went back in, only to find that Gregoris Sedakis had already taken his wife to bed.
“I do feel a bit sorry for her,” Donovan remarked. “Laboring under that big fat belly.”
Naomh laughed. “Yeah, can't be easy.”
Donovan shrugged. “Ah well, I suppose it's time to head home anyway. “ He began to walk toward the door, but found himself staggering. He swore. The ouzo was obviously having more of an effect than he originally thought it would. But he was not going to let anyone notice that. He turned around and looked at Naomh. “You want a ride?”
Naomh shook her head and walked over to him, grabbing him by the arm. “You're not going anywhere,” she said as she pulled him toward the stairs. “You've had far too much ouzo to drive your flashy Bugatti.”
“Damn you,” Donovan grumbled at her.
Chapter Eight
Donovan woke up the next morning in a lavish bedroom in Sedakis' 18th century colonial home. He was thankful that he was not hungover. He looked around and noticed his clothes were folded on top of a chair in the corner. His boxers were the topmost and as soon as he saw them, he realized he was naked. He looked to the other side of the bed and saw Naomh Walsh there. He lifted the sheets and saw she was naked too, her smooth skin beckoned him to touch her. He surmised something must have happened, but he could not remember anything past cursing her as she forbade him from driving himself home.
Slowly he got out of bed and began to get
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