Crime Drama Book Novels & Stories

"Drink. It’s peat-heavy. It burns the cold out of the throat." Lina stared at the glass but didn't touch it. "I’m not here for a tasting." "No. You're here for the truth," Dominic sighed, leaning back against his desk. He tapped the ledger. "This book... it’s a ghost story. My father's sins, written in Thorne’s trembling hand. You thought this was your weapon. But tell me, Lina—who do you think gave Thorne the keys to the archive twelve years ago?" Lina’s heart skipped. The warmth of the fire suddenly felt like a fever. "Thorne was a man of integrity. He hid it from you."

"How could you even think that about me? Yeah, I survived, but I was a victim, too. And now, just because of one photo, you're calling me a killer? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" I swallowed hard, my voice breaking. "I said I probably fell asleep around 10 PM. I never said I was sure. My head was spinning from the altitude, and I wasn't clear. And come on—I'm just one woman. How the heck could I take out five grown men?" Alex's stare locked onto my face. "Yeah… doesn't seem likely." Just then, the coroner walked in with a fresh report, the pages still smelling like ink. He handed it straight to Alex.

We always had to be available whenever it was required of us. “Sorry, we lost track of time,” Zayn apologized quickly, running his hands through his hair stressfully. Boss shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to waste any more time. “It better not happen again,” he muttered briefly, before cutting to the chase. “Anyway, there's been some mass murders in Manhattan lately. I'll need you two to investigate these, and do what you can to find out who was behind them.” “Fuck,” Zayn heaved. “Is there a pattern between them?”

The metallic scent of blood. “DEVYN!” Chairs were thrown around, vases were smashed, but he couldn’t pinpoint where the smell of blood was emanating from. Then he realised something... He hadn’t checked the main bedroom. Running through to the other side of the cottage, he throws the bedroom door open and charges in but takes a step back when he sees the calling card on the wall and his face pales. Deja vu set in and Kieran’s heart breaks anew. “No... not again...” He cries out, his breathing ragged as Massimo runs into the bedroom behind him. “Fuck, oh fuck, Kieran...” He breathes out, knowing what this meant. The fucking Suarez Cartel had her.

He obviously loved thrillers as most of the books were made up with novels by Ian Fleming, Desmond Bagley, Hammond Innes, Ian Rankin, Michael Robotham and Alistair MacLean. My mobile sounded and I moved out on to the landing. Caller ID: Kimberley. “Hello, darling,” I said into the phone. “I need a drink,” she explained. “Bad morning?” “Ever since that break-in you investigated, Bio-Preparations insist on having an audit every month,” she said breathlessly. “Why have they got to have it on a bloody Saturday?” “You poor thing,” I said soothingly, feeling partially responsible. “So how about the Waggoner’s Rest?” She persisted. “I’ve just arrived back at the quay.”

Half-mouthed. A young, executive-type guy in a plum-colored shirt, open tie, looks me up and down as he passes, turning his head to catch my gaze over his shoulder. My eyes freeze on him as the third one twitches open. I catch it shut, slamming down an image of him stumbling forward as he grabs at his throat—something black sluicing from his mouth, running over his hands. Hot as tar. Smoking where it spreads. There’s panic in his eyes. Like he doesn’t know why. He’s gone when I see clear again. Another stranger I killed for no reason.

I will show the world that I’m the real monster of the family. I will turn the black cross, the family symbol into red because blood will flow in the streets of Queens as long as my woman is locked away. End of book 1. The next book in the series will be Michael’s and Lola’s story. The doctor’s convict.

Jan 2012, Siegel Gambino vs Victoria Larei Fraser. "In this criminal case, Ms. Fraser is accused of murdering Mr. Ryan Fraser and kidnapping of Mr. Gambino in late November 2011" I squeeze my eyes close and took a deep breath upon hearing the judge's words. At the same time, I rub my sweaty palms together as I anxiously listen to her. She is about to announce the outcome of the trial. This trial has been going on for so long and today concluded it and I hate to admit that I am the villain of this story.

she continued, her tone softer, less certain now that she was closer to me, “please answer my question.” Her composure had started to crack. “What do you think we do, Raven?” I asked, leaning forward over the desk, my gaze locked on hers. There was no reason to keep pretending. She’d seen the files. She’d encountered Marco. And truthfully, I no longer wanted to keep secrets from my Raven. “Mafia, I guess,” she said carefully. I was impressed. She’d pieced it together—and she hadn’t run to the police. Despite the danger, she’d stayed. That kind of loyalty ignited a flicker of pride deep in my chest.“I’ll just say it then,” I told her. “We’re involved in the mafia.”

Then he tells me. Not everything at once. Not in order. Pieces, like shells washed up after a storm. Berlin vaults. Auctions. Mafias. A weapon called the swarm. A woman named Sofia who laughed like sunlight and died saving her daughter. A girl named Elena who almost burned the world to feel clean. A choice—mercy over vengeance—made in a crumbling palazzo in Rome. He speaks of blood and betrayal and nights when they thought they wouldn’t see another sunrise. He speaks of love—fierce, desperate, the kind that survives when everything else burns. He speaks of coming here—three broken men with nothing left but each other—and deciding to stay.