Claimed by the Hellbound Rider

The Call

Luca POV

The sun was up, shining brightly, and daytime New York was up and moving by the time I finished cleaning up and smoothing over the mess Alessa had made with the Capelli family in our club on Fifth.

I was f*****g exhausted.

All I wanted was to get home to Elena and make sure she was okay, that her anxiety had calmed. Twisting my wrist, I checked my watch and cursed. At well past eight, she'd already be out chasing whatever assignment her editor had thrown at her. Which meant I'd either need to find an excuse to track her down, maybe take her to lunch, or wait until she was home.

My need to see her, to check in on her, overrode my need for sleep. So I was in the process of pulling out my phone to text her and make lunch plans when it started ringing in my hand.

"Father" flashed across the screen. I closed my eyes as I swiped to answer.

"Yes, Father?"

"Where are you?" His deep voice still carried a slight Italian accent.

"Leaving the Regent. It took longer than I expected to smooth things over."

He made a sound on the other end of the line, something that could have been a huff if my father was less dignified. "You're needed at the mansion. I expect you here within fifteen minutes." The line went dead.

I stared at the dark screen for a moment before shoving the phone back into my pocket. So much for lunch. Father didn't summon people unless he had a reason, and ignoring him wasn't worth the headache that would follow. Elena would understand. She always did.

"Gino, head to the mansion." Sinking back against my seat, I let New York speed by through the windows and closed my eyes. Sometimes I wondered if being my father's son was worth all the headaches that came with it.

We pulled up in front of the mansion, and I opened my eyes with a sigh.

Most people who passed the limestone facade assumed it belonged to some old-money Manhattan family. In a way, they were right. The Mancinis had owned the property for nearly a century, long before my father took control of the Syndicate. Ivy crawled up portions of the exterior walls, softening the sharp edges of the architecture, while wrought-iron fencing enclosed the grounds and kept curious eyes at a distance.

What outsiders didn't see were the cameras hidden among the landscaping, the guards positioned at every entrance, or the men monitoring the feeds from a secure room in the basement. They didn't see the meetings held behind closed doors, the deals brokered over expensive whiskey, or the fact that half the city's criminal underworld eventually found its way through these doors.

To New York, it was a mansion.

To the Mancini Syndicate, it was headquarters.

Gino pulled the car to a stop beneath the covered entrance. Before he could round the vehicle and open my door, I was already climbing out.

The massive front doors opened before I reached them. One of the household staff inclined his head.

"Mr. Mancini. Your father is waiting in his office."

I climbed the stairs, my hand trailing along the smooth oak railing that shined like it had been freshly oiled. It probably had been. Father had never tolerated less than perfection, and he had an entire staff devoted to the care of the place.

The scent of cigar smoke hit me before I even reached his office door. Tapping my knuckles against the wood, I waited until he called for me to enter before pushing through it.

He was sitting behind his desk, cigar in hand, with Vincent Caruso in a chair across from him and Salvatore Campo standing just slightly behind him. Salvatore had been my father's Consigliere since before I was walking. The man was tall, skinny, and had a face as long as a horse's. And my father trusted him completely. If Salvatore said the sky was green, Father would probably argue with God Himself before questioning his Consigliere.

Vincent was one of his most trusted Capos. He was short, stout, and threw a right hook that could take your jaw off if you didn't duck.

If these two men were here, they must be planning something. I resigned myself to getting no sleep and not being able to see Elena until later tonight.

"You wanted to see me?" I took a seat in the other leather chair that faced my father's desk.

"You've done what you felt you needed to in order to get that out of your system?" my father asked.

My shoulders tensed at his implication—that I was wasting my time making my point—and I had to consciously relax them. I shifted in my seat and casually crossed an ankle over my knee. "Alessa won't be causing any issues anymore. And I've ensured the Capellis know we're not weak, and disrespect in any form won't be tolerated."

Salvatore just nodded, while my father narrowed his eyes at me. "I still don't see why you don't just keep Alessa on the side. There will be times when Elena is…incapacitated…if you plan on doing your duty and furthering the family line. You'll need a willing body to lose yourself in."

He wouldn't see. He'd kept a string of mistresses that my mother turned a blind eye to over the years. Momma was a mafia princess in her own right, and their marriage was arranged before she turned eighteen. She told me once that she knew about the women and was grateful. It meant my father came to her bed rarely and left her to her own devices.

It wasn't like that with Elena. It never would be. She was the love of my life, had captivated me from the moment I met her. I couldn't imagine ever wanting someone else when I had her.

But this was an argument I wouldn't win, so I waved him off. "It's fine. It's done."

He grunted, then, thankfully, moved on. "We've got a shipment coming in. This one is different from our usual. We're…testing a new transporter."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He flicked some of the ash from his cigar. "We know the feds have been looking at us. So we're diverting from our normal methods for the foreseeable future."

"You think that's smart?"

Salvatore stepped forward. "We know they have eyes on our regular routes, our normal partners. This new potential partnership has the potential to circumvent those eyes until the heat is off."

"Who, precisely, are we putting our trust into?" I wanted names. Nothing about this sat right. We were taking a risk when things were precarious enough already. But this was Father's decision, so while I'd support him here, I would be digging into these new people when I got back to my penthouse.

"We've just finished meeting with the president of the Iron Crown motorcycle club. They've wanted an alliance for years now. I'm giving them the opportunity to prove they're worth the effort," Father said.

My lip curled into a sneer before I could stop it. "They're street trash on two wheels."

"They'll serve a purpose." He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking. "And you'll liaise with them. If this proves out, then they'll be a good ally."

I started to respond, but my phone rang, Antonio's name flashing. I looked up. "Excuse me for a moment, I need to take this." I stood and walked to one of the corners. "Hello?"

"Boss," Antonio's voice cracked. "Boss, I'm sorry. Elena's missing."

The blood drained from my face.

"What do you mean she's missing?"