The Promise of Love by Billi Jean Page A

hair. “Right, so she’s expecting you, or…?”
    “Me.”
    “All right.”
    “Here we are, just remember, look big, bad and in charge.” Petrok frowned at them both. “That shouldn’t be a problem with those sorry expressions.”
    Without waiting, she opened the door and waltzed in ahead of them. He followed, not glancing over to see if Will was upset by his setback or not. Just the thought of Will alone with Paris had his heart racing and some damn jealous thoughts going through his head.
    “Ms. Petrok, ah, this must be Mr. Jansen and Mr. Bryson. Welcome, welcome, it’s good to have you on board. Ms. Petrok speaks highly of you.” Duke shook David’s hand with both of his. David assessed the guy in less than ten seconds as a rich, spoiled motherfucker with more time to waste than was good for him. David doubted the guy had ever worked up a sweat on a hard day’s work in his life, let alone ruined his manicure.
    “Sir,” he said respectfully. “You’ve got quite a set-up here.”
    “Thank you,” Duke said, clearly thinking the same. “You didn’t stay here last evening, though. I had hoped you would sample some of what we have to offer.”
    “We had to help a friend,” Will said smoothly.
    “Ah, a friend, yes, that’s good. Well, bring her up here, then. The more the merrier.” He laughed and shook Will’s hand. “But come, come, let’s discuss what I have in mind for you both.”
    Hell, he didn’t like the sound of that. He caught Petrok’s eye but she narrowed hers and nodded slightly. He swallowed past the unease and followed Duke farther into the luxurious room. The place seemed like an apartment, but was obviously the man’s office. David settled into one of the four chairs positioned around a low coffee table. There were magazines organized in rows with a large floral arrangement in the center. The chair and bouquet alone probably cost more than he made in a year. Hell, probably keeping the flowers fresh cost more.
    “Well, it’s a pleasure, truly, to have such talent interested in what I’m working on,” Duke said, clearly thrilled to have them there. “I am hoping you will take my offer further, and with your skills, build me a working force I can shop out, if you know what I mean? I have men in certain places interested in such.”
    The vague statement was so suave even the ex-spy Petrok seemed impressed. With that kind of force, the man meant, he could sell soldiers—or the drug that would make them perfect killing machines.
    “We’re interested, sir, that’s why we’re here,” Will offered. “What do you have in mind?”
    “With your combat experience, I think training some of my other branches, first here, with Walters as your head, then each of you with your own division in different locations. I think within the year we should have a solid operation, especially if the tests go as planned.”
    “Tests, sir?” David asked, leaning back to cross his foot over his knee, trying his best to appear casual and damn happy to be sitting in a room with such a scumbag.
    “Yes, Ms. Petrok can fill you in more on that, but the essential job for you two is to help me market the new, improved drug and for that I need highly trained men able to protect my interests.”
    “And Walters? What of him?” Petrok asked.
    “He’s to secure the formula so that no one else beats us to market with what I’ve created. We don’t want competition before we even begin, now do we?”
    The guy was slick, David would give him that. With his dark hair, handsome features and a bodybuilder physique, he probably could walk into any top executive position and do well. He was rich, filthy rich, and because of that, he didn’t have to work. Instead he played at being a scientist with a stolen formula to build the perfect soldier. Only the drug didn’t simply enhance physical attributes necessary in battle—for some subjects it screwed with a person’s sex drive and that was what he bet Duke was