Going Down by Shelli Stevens Page B

shower,” Ellie said weakly, her heart still pounding and her body sweaty from yoga and making love. Though, this time, their joining had been hard, fast, almost angry. Even still, it had been incredible.
    She tried to wiggle out from under Tyson, but gasped in shock as he flipped her onto her back. The breath rushed from her chest as he moved to kneel over her, straddling her waist.
    “You’re ready for more…?” she started to joke, but then saw the hard line of his jaw and the anger in his eyes. A frisson of unease slid through her, premonition tickling in her gut. “Tyson?”
    “Tell me your name again.”
     

Chapter Thirteen
    Her name? Oh God. Why was he asking, unless…
    “Elinamifia Owens.”
    His flinty gaze narrowed. “Try again.”
    Her throat went tight and her heart smashed into her ribcage. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and drew in an unsteady breath.
    “What do you mean? That’s my name—”
    “Then let’s go find your purse, Ellie, seeing that I never checked your ID that first day we met.” He was off her in an instant, and striding across the room.
    Ellie was on her feet, fumbling to pull up her pants as she stumbled after him, her chest tight with fear.
    “Tyson, wait—”
    But by the time she entered the kitchen, he was already swinging her satchel purse around two fingers.
    She went to snatch it, but he lifted it above her head.
    “ Your name ,” he ground out, his gaze flashing with irritation. “And don’t even think of lying to me this time.”
    It was right there in her purse, in her wallet. The driver’s license that would confirm what he already knew. For a moment, she contemplated turning and running like hell out of the house. Try to disappear again, and just hide for the next week.
    “You already know my name,” she finally whispered.
    “I want to hear you say it.”
    “Eleanor Owens.”
    “And Elinamifia is just some person’s identity you stole?”
    “Elinamifia is my cousin!” she shouted, her cheeks heating with frustration. “You don’t understand, Tyson—”
    “I understand there’s a bench warrant out for your arrest.”
    Ellie’s hands fell to her sides and the blood rushed from her head. She reached for the counter when her knees threatened to buckle. “What did you say?”
    “You heard me, Ellie.” He shook his head and thrust a hand through his hair. “Instead of screwing you the minute I walked in the door, I should’ve been arresting your ass.”
    A few heartbeats went by. “And are you going to arrest me now?”
    She watched Tyson, saw the tic in his jaw as he stared down at her.
    “I asked you to trust me, Ellie. Multiple times.”
    “I know.”
    “And you didn’t.” Accusation shone in his gaze now.
    “I couldn’t . I can’t trust anyone. You still don’t understand, Tyson.” Tears flooded her eyes and she cursed herself. She was not the type to cry, not even when James had beaten her.
    “Damn it, I do understand, Ellie.” And then the tone of his voice shifted, gentled. “I haven’t always been a small-town sheriff, sweetheart. I was a cop in Seattle for a while, too. I’ve testified in numerous trials, myself. I’ve seen the kind of fear that can make a witness walk around puking for days before taking the stand.”
    “You…you worked in Seattle?”
    He sighed and took a step toward her, setting down her purse as he moved to cup her shoulders. She blinked the tears from her eyes, the tension in her body dissipating at the massaging of Tyson’s hands.
    “For five years. I was young, eager for action and adventure. I got it in spades.” He shrugged. “But then I realized what I’d given up. How much I loved and missed Wyattville and its people. I came home two years ago, deciding it was time to put down some roots for good, find a girl and start a family.”
    “Two years ago? And you’re still not married,” she said, and then her lips twitched. “Unless there’s something you’d like to tell