Nolan shook his head, his eyebrows pinching together. “I don’t imagine there was much of an investigation after you told your doctor the insulin was self-inflicted. If they did have their doubts, they never contacted me.”
I knew what he was getting at, and it was a point I didn’t want to argue. At the time, I believed it had been Gypsy. It was an automated response to cover for her, and my doctor already believed I was suicidal, given my constant rejection of life-saving treatments. There was little they could do but keep me under observation for the required amount of time.
“There was no investigation,” I conceded. “At least not to my knowledge.”
Nolan shrugged. “Then it’s anyone’s guess. You’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, and from my understanding, so has Gypsy.”
I considered his suggestion, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. There had been incidents over the years when my car was trashed, or the office had been vandalized. Death threats in the mail were part of the job, but nobody had ever taken it this far before.
“Have you considered that your ex could have anything to do with this?” Nolan asked.
My stomach roiled. “It’s crossed my mind.”
“She’s in prison, but she has contacts on the outside. Perhaps she managed to convince someone to help her.”
“It’s possible,” I admitted. “I’m going to look into it.” I couldn’t ever underestimate her ability to fuck up my life again.
Nolan nodded. “If you need my help, let me know what I can do. I’m available.”
“I will.”
I stood, and we walked out of the church together. It was early afternoon, and the sun was blinding in its intensity. I slipped on my sunglasses, and Nolan held a cupped hand over his forehead, squinting at me. “Are we going to talk about where we go from here? Has anything changed with your plans?”
“Nothing has changed,” I said. “My final wishes remain the same. But if everything goes accordingly, you won’t need to execute them for a long while now.”
He blinked at me as he processed my words. “You’re getting treatment?”
“I’m halfway through,” I answered. “Radiation starts on Monday.”
A smile broke across his face, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “That’s really good news, Lucian. I’m happy to hear it.”
“Death will have to wait for another day.” I stared off into the distance. “But for now, I guess I should probably let the world—and Gypsy’s publisher—know that I’m still alive.”
Nolan chuckled, but then he scratched at his chin. “Or maybe you should wait,” he suggested. “If someone really is after the two of you, then it might be safer that you stay hidden until you figure out who it is.”
I nodded. “You have a point.”
“I always do,” he answered.
“EVERYTHING OKAY IN HERE?”
Lucian looked up at me from his desk, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he nodded. “I’m just going through my accounts.”
He’d been going through them since his return this afternoon, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it. This situation was stressing him out, and he wouldn’t stop until he figured out what was going on.
I leaned against the doorframe. “Any leads yet?”
His brows pinched together as he glanced at the screen, and even though he shook his head, I suspected he’d uncovered something.
“Not anything I can prove,” he said wearily.
“I’m worried.” My hands felt like iron as they wrapped around me. “I don’t know if I stirred something up by writing that book.”
Lucian blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts as he focused on me. “Come here.”
I walked around the desk, and he pulled me onto his lap, leaning me into his chest as he kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes, wishing for more. Since his return, he still hadn’t kissed me on the lips. He said he believed me, but tension lingered between us, and I knew he was still protecting himself in case his worst fears about me turned out to be true.
“I’m here, Gypsy,” he said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or my son.”