Books Set In Chicago Novels & Stories

Somewhere deep beneath Chicago, something old shifted. And the city kept breathing.

Brody explained and gasped for breath. I was speechless for a moment but I decided not to look impressed or afraid. “Don't you think I knew all that before marrying him?” I asked. “I don't think you did, Lexi.” He sat next to me, glancing around before whispering. “Did you hear of the Chicago gang war?” He asked. I nodded. I heard it was a gory gang war that took a lot of lives in that city. The city was ridded of gangs and mobsters just so that one singular gang could occupy it.

And with that, they set off into the depths of the city, their fate intertwined in ways they could never have imagined. As they navigated the labyrinthine streets of Chicago, Antonio led Amari through the maze of alleys and backstreets, each step bringing them closer to the heart of darkness he had alluded to. The city seemed to pulse with a life of its own, its streets teeming with activity even as the shadows whispered secrets that sent shivers down Amari's spine.

Chapter 7: Olive's POV I'd found a reasonable place to have coffee not long after, tucked into a corner of the hotel café, nursing lukewarm coffee and debating whether my life had always been this much of a trainwreck or if it was a recent development. Spoiler: It was recent. Three days in Chicago, and I'd already been mistaken for a creative director, cornered by the hottest hockey player alive, offered some mysterious deal I'd been smart enough to refuse, and spent every waking moment trying not to think about said hockey player's bare chest and wet dreams.

​Ruby’s POV ​The air inside the abandoned warehouse district on the outskirts of Chicago smelled of rust, old rain, and impending victory. ​Chloe had selected the location—a sterile, concrete loft space currently under development by a Bells subsidiary. It was completely private, entirely secure, and far away from the prying eyes of the Magnificent Mile. Outside, the cold Midwestern wind howled against the reinforced glass windows, but inside, the tension was thick enough to suffocate.

“Tell Ivan the Bratva will help him rebuild his bookstore. Get our men to keep an eye out. If this is the Outfit, they won’t stop here.” He nods, already on it. I watch as he disappears into the night, his form silhouetted by the flickering light of the fire. This is just the beginning, I know. The battle for Chicago’s criminal underworld is heating up, and I intend to come out on top. Misha and I settle into my SUV, and I lean back, interlocking my fingers together, deep in thought. The air inside the vehicle is charged with tension as I consider my next move.

he stated, a promise before running his thumb over my bottom lip and stepping out of the room himself. Anticipation had me shivering and I shook my head. Damn it, we were at work. In a dangerous area and all I could think about was Jake, his hands and his mouth. “Shit.” I uttered before forcing my mind to focus on something else. I shoved my dirty clothes into my bag along with the women's deodorant I had grabbed and pulled my jacket back on. It was still on the chilly side and if we were working outside today I didn't want to be caught unawares. I was attaching my holsters when Jake stepped back into the room, freshly shaven, his hair slightly damp he looked good enough to eat and I forced

Three rotating positions now, no face yet. I forwarded it to Nikolai without comment and went to work. Around midday I found Ace in the library. He had pulled three books off the shelf and was reading the back covers one after the other. "Finding anything useful," I said from the doorway. He looked up. "Depends on what useful means." "Are any of them interesting." He held one up. "This one is about the history of organised crime in Chicago. I feel like that is either very relevant or deeply ironic given where I am standing."

The problem is, after all these years, why did I end up bringing myself to Chicago to restart my life after leaving my hometown? That insane question made me feel uneasy. I had no clear answer as to why I chose to buy an apartment in Chicago after visiting several cities to find a place where my family and ex-husband couldn’t track me down. But there was one other thing that made me even more uncomfortable—the fact that I was now sitting with my old journal that I had just found—the first and last series of journals I had written when I was 14.

“I'm from Chicago. We treat emotional comfort like a contagious disease.” That actually got a quiet laugh out of him. It hit me weirdly hard. Dante didn't laugh often and when he did, it always felt slightly accidental. “You're different here,” he said after a moment. I looked at him carefully. “Different how?” “You stop expecting hostility before entering rooms.” The answer landed more directly than I expected. I folded my arms loosely against the cold. “Chicago teaches you anticipation.” “Yes.” “You say that like an experience.” His gaze shifted briefly toward the street before returning to me.