Just a folded twenty-dollar bill I’d been keeping for emergencies, and the faded photograph of Warren on our thirtieth anniversary tucked in the clear pocket. The man who’d started as a mechanic with perpetual grease under his fingernails and built Morrison Auto Group with me from absolutely nothing. Twelve dealerships.
Buzz
I asked for the heaviest rifle in the armory, and a sergeant laughed so hard that he had to hold on to the counter. Then a three-star general walked over and told me that a girl my size was a liability to his entire unit. He made me raise my arms to prove it. My jacket tore open at the shoulder.
He saw what was under it, and he stopped in the middle of a word. He knew those scars. He had read about them…
