สวนท้อสวรรค์ของเหยาจี

Zane's POV

"The fucking bastard thinks he can outsmart me. I want his ripped body in my office in less than an hour," I screech out at Reaper, my eyes shooting hot daggers. 

"Yes, Boss," Reaper replies walking out of the room.

He is my trusted right-hand man, and I know he will bring the fucker to his knees right in front of me. 

Micah Jameson, a young man who works for me decided to take my money and run with it. 

No one takes what is mine unless I give it to them willingly. Now, Micah wouldn't be the first I will wipe from my list, nor will he be the last. 

Taking a swing from my whiskey glass, a tugged the glass back, letting the burn slip down my throat. 

It has been four months since Micah picked up a job delivering coke to my clients, he never fails me until about two weeks ago, his money is always not complete and last night when he deposited my money, the fucker had the audacity to give me my money with a shortage of one hundred thousand dollars. 

He will pay for it. Every single penny or his head will be dancing before the sun sets. 

*

Two hours later, there is a hassle outside and when a knock comes in, Reaper strides into the room, dragging a bleeding Micah with him. 

He is dumped in the center of the room. Lifting my head to him, I stare at the ridiculous piece of shit, his dirty blonde hair sticking to his forehead as sweat beads down his face. 

"Boss," he starts, fear lacing his voice. 

"I want my money, Micah," I growl applying force on the whiskey glass in my hand. 

At forty-one I knew better how to deal with young men who were after stealing my money. One thing they kept forgetting, no one steals from Zane. 

I own fifteen strip clubs around the country, but Colorado is home, Lake Side gives me peace. 

As a mafia, I ensure no one messes with my famiglia in Colorado. Punks like Micah are what I don't need in my business. 

"I am sorry, Zane, stealing from you was shitty, I know, but please don't kill me," he begs. 

I hate weak men, standing, I pull the gun from my holster, pointing it at him, directly in the middle of his eyes.

"One reason why I shouldn't kill you, Micah, I trusted you and you stole from me, from your boss. I will never work with someone who will take my money and try to run away," I blurt out. 

I always love these mind games, that make the men writhe with fear, I am no little man, where I stand at 6'7m, I have a broad shoulder with a puffed chest, and I work for every cent I own making me even angrier when people don't work, yet, they want quick access to cash. 

Micah gulps, pushing his head down, if he wants to live, his response will be a miracle to save him because he will end up with a bullet between his eyes. 

"It is for my sister. I want her here with me, but she wouldn't leave New York without finishing her student loan off," he says his eyes firing with hot tears but he blinks them away, not wanting to show signs of weakness. 

But he isn't the only one who goes soft, at the mention of his sister, of how he will steal from me to give it to her, a wicked plan forms in my head.

"How am I sure you aren't lying to me, Micah? You lied once remember? And you stole my money with it," I say calmly, but spite fills every layer of it, making him wince as I raise my gun to him once more. 

I see the wheels turning in the young man's head, he thinks, sighs before speaking. 

"Let us make a deal, Zane, I promise to pay you back as soon as possible," Micah begs. 

"A deal? And what will that be?" I ask looking at him like he has gone mad. 

"London, you can have London for as long as you want, I just need to get your money back, and then, I can give you an interest as well, just don't kill me, I am all she has on earth," Micah says. 

I would kill this punk right now, but the deal doesn't sound bad, just that I don't let other people give women to me, I have a wide range of ladies to make my pick from. 

I scratch my beard, looking directly into his eyes. I would kill him if not for his last sentence. Many people do a lot of things, but family, is what I respect the most, and I glare at him, nodding once. 

Turning to Reaper, my instruction is as clear as sin. 

"Take this motherfucker to the dungeon, keep him stacked there until it is confirmed that what he says about his sister is true. Take Caleb with you to New York, I want the girl here without a scratch on her body. Be gentle," I tell him. 

"Yes, Boss," he says. 

The big brute is 6'4m he doesn't always seem to say much, but he follows instructions to the point. 

Reaper can be forceful sometimes_ well, all the time_ that is why I keep him with me, he works for me and I pay him generously because he knows how to do his job without leaving a trace behind. 

I leave my office and walk into the club as it booms, this is just a facade, my real dirty business is behind the dark curtains, where I sell my illegal products, that is what has made me a billionaire, that is what consists of being an Italian mafia and supporting the Silicy in Colorado. 

I own Lake Side and will tear down any fucker who thinks other. 

There is one fucker that has been messing with me lately though, but he will soon meet his end.