Top Crime Fiction Books Novels & Stories

The dimly lit room was thick with the scent of cigar smoke, the air heavy with tension. Damon leaned back in his chair, a half-burnt cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he listened to the suppliers seated before him. They were a rough bunch—three men with hardened faces, each bearing the scars of a life spent in the underworld.

Killing a woman who posts no threats to her is too much. As the hired man approached Marie Arnold, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit alleyway, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had always been killing, and this is the same feeling he always feels whenever he is about to kill someone. He knew what he had been tasked to do, but as he drew closer to his target, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt that gnawed at the edges of his conscience.

The world around her blurred, only the murmurs of the men as they dragged the body away. She closed her eyes and sighed. While in college, she used to have this weird fantasy of dating some cold, ruthless, obsessive mafia don that would make her shiver with just a glance. Sofia used to laugh at her fantasies. "You should stop reading these novels, there's no such man in the world," she'd say to her in the end.

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.”

"Four hours, Wallace. Not a single 911 call. Not one smashed window. Not even a broken taillight by the canal." Wallace took a pull from his beer bottle and wiped his mouth. "And that's a bad thing?" "You know damn well it doesn't make sense," Moss said, leaning across the table. "Two days ago people were getting robbed in broad daylight. Now the whole west ward is acting like a church choir. It's too clean." "Come on, Moss," Wallace said, shaking his head. "Take the win. The radio is dead, Mick is off your back, and we don't have to write fifty burglary reports before midnight. The crime dropped. That's a good thing for normal people. Stop looking for ghosts."

My gaze drifted to the news murmuring in the background on the TV. A fleet of police vehicles filled the screen, blue and red lights flashing in front of what looked like an embassy building. I was about to look away when the caption caught my eye. Breaking news: Murder at the Tibetan embassy in New York. I froze. Then gasped. My fingers fumbled for the remote and I turned up the volume. The reporter’s voice filled the room, professional and completely detached from the panic surging through my chest. “Authorities confirm that Giancarlo Conti, a wanted trafficker and suspected mob leader, was killed earlier today during an attempted arrest…”

I left Aaron for the meantime on the part where the fountain pens are to go to the novel section. Since I saw Sophie Lark's Brutal Prince on TikTok's recommendation, people who have read this say that it has a strong female lead. I enjoy books of that genre, therefore I may be interested in reading it. I looked at the shelves. I also picked up a book and read the synopsis on the back when Aaron came to me here. "You like reading books?" he asked. I turned my eyes on him, "Uh, sometimes. If I'm interested in the plot," I answered.