Days With Puck Greene.

32. Trent.

I squirmed where I sat in the back of an overpriced rental Sudan with a man in an overpriced suit doing my best to focus on the words he was saying and not the gun resting idly next to his clipped and clean hands. Spotless. Like his record, but not his reputation.

When the car had first pulled up alongside me four months ago I had shit bricks and nothing has changed except maybe my moral standing and the number in my bank account. I have known the truth about Jackson Greene my entire life. He was an unforgiving man and not one of many words, though when he did speak his words came out smooth and confident as if there should never be any question as to what he told you. Though no one ever stood to correct him by any means as his eyes made it clear that he had a bite plenty big enough to match his bark.

Briefly I wondered if he had ever been a tender man. He must have because if he weren't then no woman in her right mind would have stayed with him so long. Only to be offed years later? There must be something down in there something human and loving in this shell of a man. And then I felt a bout of jealousy that that may have been the man Puck got to know as a child, but not myself. She continues on in her safe little bubble never guilty of anything, but yet I resented her so much for having a life different than to mine, my mother always struggling between jobs, the different men coming in and out, the hatred she held for my resemblance to my father.

Mostly I hated her for being the child he had made his first priority whilst ignoring the rest. She isn't even grateful for it. When Jackson had come to me proposing an offer I was not inclined to turn down I recalled watching his eyes to see if that flat hungry expression left his eyes even just for a moment while he proposed his only daughters murder to me. But there was nothing, he spoke of it without hesitation or remorse as though he were discussing something as trivial as the weather.

A sociopath that's what he is, I thought.

"I don't think Trenton, that it should be this hard to get one bloody job done." His voice was perfectly calculated; almost pleasant even, but there was no denying the cold edge to his words and I felt hot sweat beading up on the back of my neck and along my hairline. I did my best not to stutter when I said "She hasn't had a moment alone in weeks, and -" "No, no excuses Trenton. Get the job done or I'll do it myself, can never trust a bloody snake like you. Nothing but pussy excuses. If I have to say it again you won't make it long enough to finally get it right. Or maybe I just wont pay off this gambling debt you've built up and I will sit back as the mafia cuts off every finger one by one until you have none left. Would you like that Trent?" His voice didn't waver once as he spoke.

My hands began to shake. "No Sir I'll get it done just give me a little more time. " I pleaded trying not to look as desperate as I was, but it was probably there in my eyes as he said, "You wouldn't be half bad for a son if you weren't the bastard child of my undoing."

It was true. It was because of me he'd had to kill Pucks mother, when she had found out about me she had finally lost it saying she'd expose him for the abuse if he continued to see his second family, she would ruin his life, he would lost his job as a business man and past minister. So Jackson left us, but this wasn't enough for her she was still vengeful and threatened that she would ruin him.  So naturally she had to die. Meanwhile Puck continued living in blissful contingency while I was left, waiting, in her shadow for a father to come who never did.

But perhaps now I could make him proud. Make him love me even.

All I had to do was kill my sister.