The Tax Collector (GirlxIntersex) Book 1

Chapter 10

Chapter 10
Lucia POV

The flat was huge, the space was straightforward, and it much beyond what I had with Martin. The first thing I saw was the futuristic refrigerator and enormous flat-screen television on the somewhat floating shelf. The sofa was clean, as was the floor. Everything appeared to be clean and freshly new.

She paced around the flat after removing her sweatshirt, leaving her in her black t-shirts. I didn't move from the doorway. I wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't until she sat on the plush sofa that she spotted my figure in the doorway. Her brow wrinkled, her eyes scanned my physique, and she motioned me over.

I looked down at my soiled sneakers and hurriedly proceeded to remove them.

"No need, Lucia."

I took them off, though, because the tiles were too pristine to get dirty with my shoes. When my feet came out, I realized they weren't much better, but I couldn't stand at the doorway indefinitely.

"Come on."

I could still see her pointing at me from the side. I laid the shoes down and moved carefully over to what appeared to be the living room. My eyes widened when I noticed the vista outside through the glass wall. It was gorgeous, and I imagined it was city lights, but just beyond lay the black gloom of Mexico.

I gently turned away from the scenery to notice her dark brown eyes on me. I have so many questions. How did I end up here in America? I know she drove us across the border. But it seemed too wonderful to be true.

"May I hold your hand?" She whispered.

I nodded. She didn't need to ask. She may do anything she wants to me; I have no objections about that. She gently held my hand. Her fingers felt soft, like if she'd never handled a firearm before. They felt as if they had caused no harm. Kill no one.

"Why me?" I quietly inquired.

She shakes her head. "There is no reason why I helped you."

"Oh," I gazed down at our joined arms and studied them. Something about holding her hand in this position seemed so perfect. I grinned at our hand. Martin, have never touched me so softly before. His touch and manner of speaking were usually somber.

"For the next three months, you'll have to lay low. I know a guy that will looked about your papers."

"Papers?"

"With a phony identity, you will have a fake Ids and birth certificate."

I nodded slowly, not really understanding what she was saying to me. All I wanted to know was her intentions towards me.

What did she actually want from me? It was one question she didn't answer. Why was she assisting me. I thought there was only one way to find out.

I removed my hand from hers. She looked up at me. I proceeded to grasp for my old, ragged garment and pulled it over my head.

"What are you doing, Lucia?" Her voice was laced with worry, and I was bewildered as to why. I was offering her my body, or at least what remained of it. I stated this since my skin was so bruised.

My hand slid to my side. "I offer my body to you; isn't that what you want?"

"No." She takes the garment and drapes it over my front. "I don't want anything from you." She exhaled. "I know where you're from, and they did something to you, but here, with me, things are different." She whispered.

"I want you to shower and rest. I'll let you take the room while I take the couch."

She began leading me down the hallway. She had pictures on the walls, but I couldn't see their faces properly. However, seeing an aged face, I concluded it was her parents. She opened a room door and let us in. It was the sole door along the corridor, other than what appeared to be a closet.

"I'll just have you wear one of my shirts. I'll have a family member go clothing shopping for you. Given your size and height, you should wear a small."

I shrugged. Years have passed since I took any measurements to determine my clothes size. I wore whatever clothing Martinez gave me, including the ragged garment that barely covered my breasts. She softly guided my body to a locked door, which I assumed was the restroom.

"Take a shower." She mumbles, opens the door quickly, and pushes me in. I looked back at the door.

"Is there something wrong? I asked. When there was no answer, I turned away from the door, slipped my clothes to the side, and headed to the shower.

The bathroom was tidy and clean, much like the rest of the house. My brow wrinkled in uncertainty as I walked into the shower and noticed the shower's multiple functions.

I came closer; I could read but couldn't understand the purpose of this shower. It wasn't the shower at home, where I just walked in and turned on a pipe. But I wasn't at home anymore, and I couldn't fathom the concept. Everything is changing now, and I understand it will take me a long time to get used to it.

The shower came on, and I screamed as the hot water seared my skin. Within a second, I heard the door burst open.

I could see Valentino's shadow moving closer to the sliding door.

"What is wrong?" Her gaze avoided my body. Did she dislike the way my body looked, or did she truly want nothing to do with me sexually?

"The shower's hot."

"It's not; you need to balance it." Her long hand swung forth. I took a look at her wrist. "The Trapz" was tattooed on her wrist, much like a branded flesh. My eyes expand. She worked for one of Mexico's drug cartels.

I gently backed away; I knew she was trouble, but I didn't realize she was serious danger. I knew everything was too nice to be true. The cartels steal everything away from me, including my family, life, and future.

There were several drug cartels in Mexico, and they never came to an agreement; their style of dealing was to kill family members who they claimed were on their territory. And that is what occurred.

"I cannot do this." I muttered, attempting to push past her body, but she extended her arms to stop me.

"It's OK; the temperature is balanced?"

I shake my head.

"I want to go back home." My eyes moistened; this was quickly becoming a nightmare. I knew something horrible would happen eventually.

"What is wrong?"

"I want to go home!"

"Hey, I won't hurt you. Now, tell me what is wrong?"

I shook my head, my gaze moving to her wrist. I felt guiltier now that I had let Martinez to die at the hands of a cartel member. I knew Martinez was not innocent, but I never anticipated my fate to be in the hands of a cartel, of all people.