Free The Mark by Phoenix Emerson Page A

the white folder in her hand. Walking down the sidewalk she was curious why her last mark would be the Juggernaut. Why would anyone want to take out the number one assassin in the world? Flipping open the dossier was his picture. He was dreadfully gorgeous. What was most notable about the Juggernaut was his scar. A long jagged cut started from his temple angling downward into his chin. In the picture taken from afar, he stood 6'5 with a chiseled jaw line that accentuated his long neck. His broad shoulders seemed to transition into his wide torso. Sinewy muscles rippled down his arms. She imagined him bare skinned wondering how much of his body was toned to perfection. His vintage gun metal sleeveless shirt and black jeans fit his body like a pair of silk gloves. The majority of his height could be found in his long torso leading down to his long legs. The Juggernaut was in a walking stride coming towards the camera. This was an obvious surveillance shot. She studied his legs and felt heat flush over her body. Strong and sturdy. She continued walking down the sidewalk with her equipment in her black suitcase. She stopped for a minute because she heard something. Putting the folder in the suitcase, she continued to walk.
     
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    Aleksandr watched the way she walked, loving every sway in her hips to the bounce in her long raven colored hair. He saw her body shift when she opened the folder. Her face seemed flushed a rosy red, and he swore he saw her bite down on her lower lip. Those magnificent features she possessed would never grace another woman again. He was rather excited about tonight. She had almost caught him when he slipped in the alleyway. He wanted so badly to take her now, but it would have to wait until later. He imagined the way their conflict would play out. He planned to pin her into submission and ravage her body relentlessly. Aleksandr never kept a romantic involvement with a woman. His sexual acts were either one night stands, or dirty alley way hook ups with drunken women who didn’t know better than to come on to him. He imagined taking his time with the Black Widow, with Londyn. He’d been watching her for some time, truth be told for months. She’d gotten on his radar when they bumped into each other in a pub in Manchester, England. She hadn’t even seen his face just said ‘excuse me’ and slithered out of the pub. He learned later a highly favored but corrupt political official had been killed in some low motel down the street known for their hourly rates.
                  They called him the Juggernaut for one reason only. He was indestructible. He was a brute. When he was handed a contract, the kill was sure to be a disastrous one. This was his last job and before he would vanish into nothing more than a fabled horror story, he had to kill the second most dangerous assassin, the Black Widow. Interestingly enough the dossier on the Black Widow was a lengthy one. All relevant information such as her date of birth, SSN, familiar background, education, and all known aliases. However when it came to her contract kills, she was never seen, heard, or noticed. His opposite. Each shot a kill shot. He admired her skill and her features. He noticed she had no known relatives and what is more important, no known significant others. 
     
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    Her favored weapons, the axe and Bowie knife accompanied her as she drove to the location given. She took precautions by taking the long way there. She drove only part of the way through the back streets, and parked in an abandoned car garage. She walked the rest of the way through the filthy alleys of New York. 304th Ave. Penthouse