All Chapters of FINDING ELENA : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Third Person POV Back in Lawrence, Brad applied for a leave, then got on a train and headed for Boston. Now that the Moranos had begun acting without involving him, he had to go hunt on his own. For that, he needed time and could not afford to have cop responsibilities dangling over his head. At a self-service print shop near the train station, he watched the printer whirr like a throat clearing. He fed it a photo of Elena and watched it come alive on cheap paper. Six copies were enough to show around. He stared at the paper in his hands, the glossy face of the girl he’d once controlled, reduced to a wanted poster he would carry in his coat. He folded one into his wallet, slid another into his coat pocket, and put the rest into an envelope. He began at motels. She had no money. She would definitely be nowhere fancy. He watched people come and go for a while. Then he talked to clerks who were eager to answer questions for a few extra bills. He took notice of routine fa

ELENA I shut the door behind me quietly and exhaled.What did I just do?I don't know what came over me. I let my mouth run, and instead of getting answers to my questions, I believe the only thing I succeeded in doing was give Mr. Banks more reason to withhold information from me.I should be more careful with my tongue.I became Brad's target because of my words, and I still lived with their consequences.Coming here was a terrible idea.Playing house with Ary Banks was not going to work.Ever since he got Brad's card, I haven't received one bit of an update.He may be trying to help, but telling me to just stay put and wait until it was over was too much.I would go crazy, especially in the mansion.Sky stirred. She was starting to cry. I went over to her crib and picked her up.I'll attend to my baby now. However, I would have to find a way to make him compromise. Otherwise, there's no way I would be able to keep staying here.~~~~~~Third Person POV Julia had just finished

He had traded his formal shirt for a white cashmere sweater paired with dark slacks. The sweater clung lightly to his frame. The sleeves were rolled up his forearms, letting me catch a glimpse of his skin up close. I looked away, annoyed that I had looked long enough to notice the way the fine hair lay on his skin surface. I stepped back from the table. “Good evening, Mr. Banks.” His hair was still damp from his shower. A stray droplet slid from his temple before he brushed it away. He had the clean, understated scent of soap. It was masculine and subtle, the kind you wouldn't notice until one was close enough to unsettle you. I was still caught in it when his eyes found me. Not the food on the table. Me. "Jim tells me you have been cooking all evening," he said, calm as usual. I could only nod. His eyes locked with mine just long enough to make my breath catch before he finally glanced at the candlelit spread before him, and then sat. Damn. His gaze was intense. “Y

“What?” she snapped. Ary’s expression stayed the same. He could feel her anger through her gaze. He should have backed off. But he didn’t. Instead, his next words were even more deliberate. “You’re clever enough to know what that kind of evidence is worth. So forgive me if I question your timing.” Elena rose from her seat. “You really think I’d risk my daughter’s life to get paid for everything you saw?” As she spoke, there was a little bit of tremor in her hands. He got up from his seat as well. “I think people do strange things when they’re desperate.” “That’s who you think I am,” she scoffed. “I think,” he agreed, “I don’t know who you are. Yet.” Their gazes locked. Hers was fierce and wounded. His was steady and assessing. Neither looked away for a brief moment. Outside, thunder rolled in the distance, but the silence in the room was louder. Finally, Elena shook her head. “You’re crazy. I can't be here,” she said, turning toward the door. “Or you could tel

The rain was soaking through his shirt, but he wasn't feeling the cold. He stood there a moment longer, staring at the house. His jaw was tight, and his breath sent mist into the night. He’d spent a lifetime mastering control over his temper, emotions, and silence. Yet, in one night, Elena Nolan had managed to undo all three. When he finally stepped back inside, his shoes left wet prints along the marble corridor. The house had become too quiet, even for him. He took off his shirt, more to keep from punching a wall than for comfort, and grabbed his phone. Julia answered on the second ring. “She tried to leave,” he said without any preamble. A pregnant pause followed. Then Julia responded, her voice threaded with concern. “What happened?” He raked a hand through his wet hair. “She must have thought we were asleep,” he said. “Walked straight for the gates in the rain. And she looked like she would have climbed over if I wasn't there to stop her.” “What did you say to