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lived in a stupid brown coat folded over a box in a storage locker no one should have known existed.
Silven opened the first box.
Receipts.
Old route sheets.
Tire service records.
The second held tools and a wrapped bundle of cash too small to be worth a war.
The trunk was the only thing that mattered.
Matteo forced the stiff latch with the handle of a screwdriver continue reading …
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