Crazy Successor: A Novel

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

The Spill and soul mate.

Preamble

Nick

We'd showed up at Butcher and Son, a decades-old deserted slaughterhouse in the edges of Desolation, New York ten minutes prior. I peered down at my watch, anticipating Arlo Malkovich any moment.

Arlo, a free specialist in the criminal organization known as the Ruin, did the messy poo different men couldn't or wouldn't. Body tidy up, hired soldier work, torment, and hits requested down from the higher-ups from all groups of the hidden world.

The Cartel, Bratva, Cosa Nostra, and whatever other illicit substance that required a center to get their firearms, sedates, dealing, or kills done effectively and without legitimate obstruction.

What's more that is actually the thing we planned to involve Arlo for.

Our grimy work.

Not that I for one cared a whole lot assuming anybody realized we were going to place a hit out on Leonid Petrov, our dad and the Pakhan of the Desolation part of the Bratva. The poop chute had this long coming, and had avoided more endeavored hits on his life throughout the a very long time than I could count.