“It’s a fortune,” I said.

“It’s a knife in a gunfight,” Luke said.

I turned the heat vent toward my cold fingers.

The extra Saturday shifts in Hastings had worn my hands down, and my knuckles ached every time the temperature dropped below freezing.

I ran my thumb along the edge of the steering wheel.

“You heard Tom,” I said.

“The corporations stop when the profit margin disappears.”

“They have millions, Ames.”