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riled up for nothing.” He pointed to the two shot glasses he had lined up on the coffee table, along with a bottle. “Sit. You need a little something.”
    Somehow she managed to smile despite the fact she didn’t want to be near him, or anyone, tonight. Solitude was her best friend. Unlike those who craved the company of others, she preferred to sift through the problems in her life alone. Knowing Landry, he’d try to get her to talk. Then he’d want to stick his nose into her business. She wasn’t about to let that happen.
    â€œThat’s the Irishman in you. Everything is solved by a good strong drink.”
    â€œIsn’t it?” He handed her the shot glass. After throwing back his, he urged her to do the same.
    Even though it was against her better judgment, she gulped down the shot and felt the warmth kick in immediately. Her body did an involuntary shudder as the liquid set her insides on fire.
    He poured another. She greedily gulped it down. When he started to pour a third, she held out her hand. On top of everything else, the last thing she needed was to get drunk, especially with Landry in such close proximity and her feeling the way she did. She might do something incredibly stupid.
    â€œTwo’s my limit. If I’m going to get grilled tomorrow, I don’t need a hangover, too.”
    â€œYou never did tell me what you were doing.” While he didn’t say the “R” word—Ramirez—she knew that’s what he was thinking.
    â€œOh, crap. Will Jonas say anything about finding me in the alley?” He didn’t need to know the length of her obsession in order to set the record straight. And he didn’t need to know about the call she’d received earlier that had led her to where she’d been. The fact that her father, or some nameless intruder, showed up at her doorstep at the same time couldn’t have been a coincidence.
    Most cops would be leery of that kind of thing—going off alone on what could be a wild goose chase or a set-up. But she wasn’t like most cops. Then again, most cops were risk adverse due to training, fear and experience. She happened to be the opposite. Some people considered her a ‘loose cannon.’ Landry accused her once, during one of their many arguments, of being on a suicide mission. She preferred to think of it as taking calculated risks in order to meet her objectives.
    â€œIf they ask him about it, of course he will.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. You were shot at. You can make excuses all you want, but you need to come clean, if not to me, at least to your sergeant and the lieutenant.”
    â€œIt’s complicated.”
    â€œGee, let me see if I can guess. You were out chasing some crazy lead thinking you’d finally get to nab Ramirez.” He drew in a deep breath. “But somebody shot at you instead. Big surprise.”
    â€œGee, thanks for your support.”
    â€œTaking chances doesn’t make you a good cop. It makes you dead.” He stared at her for a few seconds without saying anything. “Getting shot at is serious, Isabella.” He wove his fingers through hers.
    For once, she didn’t try to pull away. Maybe it was the intensity of the evening that had her caving in so easily. Or maybe she was just bone weary. “They probably didn’t know I was a cop.”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    She was more than happy to sit and analyze what went wrong in private and on her own. No matter how dismal the outcome, she’d never been the type to share with others or ask for input. Getting shot at wasn’t going to change that. “I’ve had a hell of a night. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
    â€œYou know the powers-that-be are going to talk to me tomorrow and nobody’s going to believe that booty call crap.” He held up his hand. “Since I know you didn’t kill your father, the only