Books Set In Chicago Novels & Stories

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.

“Let’s begin.” The Starlife file lay open before them. Outside, the city pulsed, deals being made, futures shifting, reputations rising and falling. And somewhere between Chicago and New York, between silence and waiting, two lives continued to move forward, stronger now, steadier. Still apart.

Marcus would pay, and so would Ella. I booked a flight back to Chicago that night, my mind racing as I planned my next move. Venice had been a mistake, a desperate chase that only left me humiliated. But Chicago was my turf, where I could control the narrative, where I could wield the truth—or my version of it—like a weapon.

(Isabella’s POV) New York, The city was a glittering, beautiful beast, its canyons of glass and steel breathing a cold, impersonal energy that was a world away from the gritty, intimate familiarity of Chicago. I had once loved this city, had spent a blissful year here studying, but now it felt like enemy territory, every shadow a potential threat, every gleaming skyscraper a watchtower in Vittorio Bianchi’s kingdom.

And throughout the drive back to the Bohen's pack house, I just couldn't get my head off from Chicago. I still had my head spinning through different questions. Questions I couldn't answer. "What is he hiding in Chicago?" "And why is he telling me that?" "What is my relationship with whoever is in Chicago, and what is his relationship too?" "Or wait? Is he just bluffing?" I furrowed my eyebrows as I turned to where he sat. He was completely calm and relaxed as he kept on smoking his cigarette, and reading the magazine that has been lying down on the car seat for weeks now.

“But it is fun. Some of them are very…imaginative and besides I’ve thought about what dad said, about being part of the action..” “Oh?” Kim leaned over as if to look at my phone. I snatched my phone away from the table and frowned at her. “Yes,” I hissed at her and turned the phone over. We were at the Old Barrel again, and I was busy with a bunch of guys on my phone. “So, you’re going to be the Carrie Bradshaw of Chicago City?” Kim asked and I looked at her for a second, wondering if this was the road that I was headed down, so I winked at her.

BOOK TWO: HUNTING HIS JEWEL It was chilly for September. Even for Chicago. He shoved his hands into his pockets, bracing himself against the crisp wind that blew in off the lake. A couple of blocks away, someone was leaning on their car horn. The street he was on was quiet, though. Asleep. The only sounds were the rustle of dead leaves blowing across the sidewalk and the tread of his boots against the cement.