Michael studied the blueprint Vanessa had hastily sketched on a napkin, her penmanship hurried but surprisingly legible. The location of the warehouse was marked in bold strokes, and though Michael's expression remained steely, his jaw tightened at the revelation.
"This could be a trap," he muttered, setting the napkin down on the desk between them. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Vanessa's. "You've lied before. What makes this different?"
Vanessa folded her arms, her face a mask of defiance. "I've lied to protect myself, Michael, just like anyone else would. But this—this is the truth. I want out. And you know I wouldn't come to you if I didn't think I could get something in return."
