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his arms. “What kind of wrecker?”
“1949 Diamond T.”
Matthew blinked. “That still runs?”
Hank looked offended. “Runs better than most men I know.”
Bryce shook his head. “We are not attaching a million-dollar rig to some rusted antique.”
Hank leaned close enough that Bryce could see the gray stubble on his cheeks. “Son, that antique pulled a loaded coal truck continue reading …
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