Page 23 of Thor

I pushed through the glass doors, scanning the lobby for copper hair and green eyes, heart hammering harder than it had any right to.

I spotted her immediately. Mandy sat hunched on a leather bench in the corner of the lobby, clutching her laptop bag and a small duffel like they contained every valuable thing she owned. Her usual perfect posture had collapsed, shoulders curled forward as if trying to make herself smaller. Her face, when she looked up and saw me, transformed—fear giving way to relief so naked it punched me in the gut.

"Thor," she whispered, her voice barely carrying across the polished marble floor. The security guard at the front desk watched me with undisguised suspicion—a tattooed biker in a leather cut didn't exactly blend in at The Pines.

I crossed to her in four long strides, scanning the lobby for anything out of place. There were cameras in each corner, a few residents collecting mail, the guard now speaking quietly into his radio. Nothing obviously threatening, but my skin prickled with the sense of being watched.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

She shook her head, auburn hair falling across her face. "I didn't know who else to call," she said, voice shaking. "There was a package—"

"Not here," I cut her off, offering my hand. She took it, her fingers ice-cold against my palm. Our hands clasped, and a current ran between us – fear and adrenaline making the simple contact feel electric. I helped her stand, noting how she swayed slightly, like someone who'd been running on nothing but nerves for too long.

"We need to move," I said quietly, taking the duffel from her shoulder and slinging it over my own. "Can you walk?"

Mandy nodded, straightening her spine with visible effort, trying to reclaim some of her usual composure. I placed my hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. Her cream-colored blouse was wrinkled, so unlike her usual meticulous appearance. The fabric trembled beneath my palm with each shuddering breath she took.

"My car—I mean your car—is in the garage," she said as we reached the doors. "I should—"

"Leave it," I ordered. "We'll send someone for it later."

Outside, the afternoon had cooled, shadows stretching across the parking lot. Crusher straightened as we emerged, hand moving instinctively toward the weapon I knew he carried beneath his cut.

"All good, boss?" he asked, eyes scanning Mandy with practiced assessment—not checking her out, but cataloging details like the club had taught him. Looking for injuries, signs of duress, threats.

"Watch our six," I replied, steering Mandy toward my Harley. "Anything moves wrong, call it in."

I led Mandy to a concrete planter at the edge of the lot, partially shielded from street view by an ornamental tree. Only when I was certain we weren't being obviously watched did I turn to face her completely.

"Tell me everything," I said, keeping my voice low. "Start with the package."

Mandy's hands twisted together in front of her, professional reserve crumbling under pressure. "It was delivered this morning. No shipping label, just my name written on the box. I thought—" She swallowed hard. "I thought it was from a client. I opened it at my desk before leaving for work."

Her eyes darted over my shoulder, scanning the parking lot. I shifted, blocking her view, forcing her to focus on me instead of potential threats I was already monitoring.

"What was in it?" I prompted.

"Photos." She reached for her laptop bag with trembling fingers, unzipping a side pocket. "Eight of them. All of me."

She pulled out a manila envelope, hesitated, then handed it to me. The flap was unsealed, the contents sliding easily into my palm. Eight glossy photos, professional quality. I flipped through them with mounting anger.

Mandy entering Prestige Partners, her accounting firm.

Mandy at a coffee shop, typing on her laptop.

Mandy walking into King's Tavern, looking over her shoulder as if sensing she was being watched.

Mandy visiting the hospital, timestamp from three days ago when she'd visited Amy.

Mandy getting into her car in the Prestige parking garage.

Mandy talking to Tyson outside the tattoo parlor.

Mandy at her apartment window, silhouetted against the light.

Mandy asleep in her bed, photo clearly taken through her bedroom window from outside.

The last one made my blood run cold. Her apartment was on the fourth floor. Someone had gone to significant effort to get that shot.

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