The Tax Collector (GirlxIntersex) Book 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Valentino Rodriguez POV

A tax collector. The description is simple: someone who collects taxes and gives them to the government, which then delivers the benefits to its residents. I wasn't a member of a government body; I wasn't even included in the government book. I've never worked a job that required me to be in line with the government, but I did collect taxes.

The vehicle drove over the red and black speed bumps. As we went across to Mexican territory, I could sense the shift in the weather. The thermometer's temperature felt like it had hit through the roof. I collected taxes in Los Angeles and within a two hundred-mile radius of Mexico.

The Mexican soil was composed of pure golden sand that had been permeated by the heat of the sun. My nostrils flared as soon as I smelled the smoke, and the hot breeze coming through the open window pushed it back into my face.

"Reaper, I told you none of that nonsense."

"Come on, dude, my finger was genuinely trembling; this is like sipping your morning coffee.

"I don't drink coffee." I muttered. Reaper, actual name Javier Carmen, was born in the center of Mexico, surrounded by drugs, guns, and bloodshed. He fell in love with it all at the age of 14. He had his first taste of blood with a rifle when he was 15 years old, and he has only been reaping ever since.

Reaper and I have been companions for ten years; we get along, vibe, and do stuff. I gather the money, and if they do not have it, he pulls the trigger. That was our role in and around Mexico and Los Angeles.

"You don't use drugs, drink coffee, or smoke anything, what are you?"

"Health," I answered while maintaining my eyes on the steamy hot road. I could smell the burning of my tires. "Get rid of it." I murmured. We did not work for the government; rather, we worked for someone the government despises: Hugo Jose, better known as The Trapz's Cartel leader.

The Trapz is an underground group that invests in businesses of all sizes, from hair salons to major corporations.

Everyone has to pay their dues, and if they don't, Reaper steps in. I have my own style of doing things and earning money. When I run around Mexico and Los Angeles, I am not compensated.

The rounds are easy to make. Every month, Hugo compiles a list of who needs to pay and what. He provides us instructions from the prison. We handed along the money to higher-ranking officials and repeated the process.

In total, around 149 businesses are affected each month, with a few more likely to join the chain each month.

When a business invests in Trapz, it is acknowledged for a charge of 35% of the company's earnings, which is a lot, but many would rather live another second than die.

Reaper pulls out a roll of paper. It rolls were so little that if they fell from one's fingers, they may be lost in the sand. He groped for his pencil, which was usually resting in the tight crease of his ears; if it wasn't his pencil, it was his preferred brand of smokes.

"How much are the runs for today?" I inquired, looking over the little paper. The small paper needs to pass through many hands and corners before it reaches our hands.

"We have 67 businesses in Mexico, but we will only strike one?"

"Who's?"

"Martinez's place... He's been slacking for almost two months now. He has 40 thousand in the back and 20 to pay up."

"Sixty up front."

"And you know Hugo does not toy with his money. If he doesn't have it, we'll murder him." He grinned.

"We killed him." I nodded. I have my fair share of blood on my hands. I enjoy murdering just for financial gain. Reaper and I must pay ourselves. Many people would ask why we would labor for the Trapz if we didn't earn a share of the profits. The solution was straightforward.

Once we are in these business establishments, we scoop it out and discover the layout of the money vault, so whether it is beneath your mattress or locked up in the bank, we are robbing our cuts.

We make runs at least once a month to keep under the radar. In this game, you cannot be too greedy or too proud. I take everything I want. Anything I desire, I take.

"We killed him. And take anything he has."

Reaper laughs and makes an eager motion from his seat. He's always eager to kill someone. It's his method of letting off steam.

"We skin him alive, in his own bathtub, and fuck his bitch?"