HIs Mark

Simon Blackthorne is a retired assassin. At least he was retired for three days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes. Why he thought it would be possible he had no clue. He should have gotten rid of that damn phone, but for some reason he’d been unable to do so. It vibrated, and he ignored it, finally the fifth time of the phone dancing around on the nightstand Simon picked it up and looked at the caller ID.
Son of a fucking bitch, if it had been from anyone else in the world he would have ignored it, but you simply cannot ignore the heir-apparent President of the United States. Especially when he is your best friend. Well it was great while it lasted.