I know, I know, another delay! Life is conspiring against me. Just as I swear off romance again (shall we not mention the Naval Officer?), I meet someone incredible - and more importantly very supportive of my writing. I've also been swamped with my midwifery training, and managed to squeeze in a surfing holiday. Alright, alright, no excuses, here we go. Chapter Thirty Nine


Pierre Merkalov had risen to the top of his game by being ruthless, brutal and Machiavellian. He had an innate understanding of people's weaknesses and he knew that for Jasmin Van Dien, it was the desire for power.

Not power as in strength, but something more subtle than that. He knew she wanted people to admire her, to fear her and to respect her. She was a simple soul, he thought, as he watched her prowl across the room.

Half heartedly, he wondered what it would be like to bed her. The thought had occurred to him before, but until now had never had fully realised in his mind. Cold, he imagined. She would be cold, and hard to satisfy.

Jasmin was like many women. She merely wanted what she could not have, and sulked when she didn't get it. She would use him, Merkalov knew that, and in sleeping with him, she would expect a reward for her favours.

There were names for women like Jasmin, but the true bearers of those titles were at least honest. They would earn their money simply and expect no more. Jasmin wanted the world, and, he rather suspected, like a modern day Salome; Alec Trevelyan's head on a platter.

Alec's indifference infuriated her, he knew that. Alec seemed resistant to her charms, and Merkalov admired that in his younger protégée. It seemed that Alec had learnt loyalty at long last.

It had been a foolish idea to follow Ashleigh Trevelyan in Paris, but Merkalov had been unable to resist seeing the woman who had taken Alec's name. He had been surprised, she was no great beauty as he had expected, instead she had been appealing. A woman who caught your attention on a second glance rather than the first. Her hair had been short and tousled, her eyes unnaturally blue. A warm smile, politely puzzled at the stranger's interest.

Yes, Merkalov had seen the attraction in her. Why Alec had chosen her. And how delicious the irony, when he had discovered her history, who her father was, and how suddenly the resemblance had been clear.

He may have only seen David Kain for a few hours, but he recognised the man in the daughter.

It all fitted together so neatly.

The fact that Ashleigh Trevelyan invoked Jasmin's animosity merely amused him. Female rivalries were of no interest to him, yet he enjoyed toying with Jasmin.

Women. They were so vital to Merkalov's plan. Jasmin was easy to manipulate with promises of fulfilling her desires, Ashleigh would be needed before the end. Natasha, nowhere near a woman yet, but so important, the lynch pin that held Alec's reluctant obedience.

There was one more woman who troubled Merkalov. She was too powerful, too much of a threat to him and his plans.

And she held Alec Trevelyan's balls in the palm of her hands.

He would destroy her. Absolutely, completely.

'You demanded to see me, and now you ignore me,' Alec snapped. Sitting bolt upright in a leather chair, he idly adjusted his cufflinks, resolutely insolent.

'You were always too hasty, Alec,' Merkalov turned to the younger man, ignoring the look of contempt. 'It is one of your faults. However, you will learn.'

'Spare me the lectures. I've managed to get this far in life with little or no help from you.'

'But I have helped you.' Merkalov laughed incredulously, as if it could ever be doubted. 'I have done nothing but help you.'

Alec remained silent, studiously staring at a point just over the older man's left shoulder.

'Jasmin,' Merkalov summoned the woman with an imperious finger, without even turning to look at her.

'What?' she snapped, looking up from where she had been tapping furiously at a computer keyboard. Alec suspected she was merely attempting to look busy in order to stay in the room.

'Leave.' The word was icy cold.

'Why?' she asked sullenly, taking a few steps towards the table where the two men were seated opposite each other, silently at loggerheads.

'Now!' Merkalov roared, half rising from his seat, one arm pulled back as if to strike, even though Jasmin was too far away for contact.

For a moment, she shrank away, flinching from his anger, but then she stood her ground.

'I organised this,' she protested. 'I should be here.'

'I don't pay you to have an opinion,' Merkalov snarled, and his cold blue eyes fixed upon her, calculating and hard.

Jasmin was not a stupid woman. A selfish woman, a greedy woman, but not stupid. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose as she realised just how wolf like Merkalov had truly become, the shaggy greying pelt, the snarling countenance, and most chilling of all, those eyes.

Turning abruptly on her heel, she fled, her face burning with humiliation.

'You're too hard on your staff,' Alec said in mock chastisement.

'No harder than you,' Merkalov retorted. 'How many man have died in your name?'

'Not as many as have died working for Le Loup.'

'Tell me,' Merkalov asked, suddenly calm and charming once more. 'How does your wife cope with your past? Does she ever question you?'

'No.'

'There's no need to be so defensive, Alec. I'm merely interested.'

'Leave her out of this.'

'Still trying to protect her?'

'She can look after herself.'

'So I understand. The Huangs were most disappointed when the pair of you disappeared into the night.'

'Misguided thugs, nothing more.'

'Valuable allies. And I'm sure you understand how necessary allies are in these uncertain times.'

Alec leant forward, his hands flat on the table. 'Is that what I am? An ally?'

'Of course. Haven't you always been?'

'I was rather under the impression that I was here for no other reason than the fact that you have my daughter. I would hardly call that an allegiance.'

'You must understand that I had to take her.'

'Understand?' Alec's voice was dangerously low. 'My child's life is in danger, that is the only reason I can stand to be in the same room as you. Why I can bear to breathe the same air as you. The moment I get Natasha back -'

Merkalov grinned cruelly as he interrupted. 'That's why I called you here. To discuss the terms under which that can be achieved. But please, carry on if you wish.'

Shock flittered over Alec's face, but to his credit he composed himself quickly. 'How?'

'We'll come to that in a moment. Would you like to know how she is?'

Alec's eyes closed briefly as he wondered what new torture this was. 'Of course,' he finally managed to breathe.

'She's been ill,' Merkalov said triumphantly.

'Ill?' Under the table, Alec's hands tightened into fists. 'How ill?'

'Nothing too serious. Chickenpox. She's recovering well. Trying to get her not to scratch has been an experience,' Merkalov shook his head gently, playing the role of the concerned grandparent once more. 'Such an intelligent child, she gets bored so easily. She's certainly her father's child.'

'More like her mother,' Alec said automatically. Ashleigh suddenly seemed a very long way away, and for that, he was glad.

He hadn't been a good husband, and yet still she stayed with him. She had proved she could cope without him, and he suspected that fierce independence was one of the reasons why he could tolerate a relationship with her.

She could cope without him.

She may have to yet.

Natasha was like her mother, a version of Ashleigh that he could love unconditionally. Without doubt that she adored him too. Fatherhood had brought him a peace he had not expected and the moment he had realised Tasha was gone, nothing else had mattered in the world.

Not even Ash, shocked, injured and paralysed with fear for her daughter.

The important thing was Natasha.

'So bright, and amusing too. She loves to be read to,' Merkalov was still talking, pointedly turning the knife with every word. The older man watched Alec, saw the set, fixed look on his face and knew that he was struggling to contain himself. Merkalov's smile grew broader. 'She's certainly been a handful, but we're beginning to get along quite nicely now.'

'Are you indeed?' Alec answered automatically, blandly. 'How fascinating.'

'You could see her,' Merkalov said slowly, as if the idea had just occurred to him. 'It could be arranged so easily, so quickly.'

It was an immense struggle but somehow Alec managed to remain neutral. 'That would be pleasant,' he finally managed. His heart was pounding, his palms suddenly slick with sweat, but still he kept up the façade.

'It would be a favour, of course,' Merkalov said, spreading his arms wide as if to suggest that the matter was out of his hands and that he had no choice but to set condition.

'And you'd expect something in return, I suppose. Isn't that the way your 'favours' work?'

'Would you expect anything less from me?'

'I never underestimate my enemies. Others may make that mistake, but I certainly don't.'

'Enemy?' The genteel manner disappeared immediately, Merkalov's face turned brick red, and he moved with surprising speed for a man of his age. The next moment Alec found himself slammed against the nearest wall, his vacated chair sprawled sideways on the ground and Merkalov's furious expression just inches from his.

'Enemy?' Merkalov said again, this time colder and more controlled. 'You dare to call me your enemy?'

'What would you have me call you?' Alec said scornfully. 'Father?'

'You're no son of mine,' Merkalov growled.

'Thank god.' Alec spat back.

'I treated you as such though, I kept you alive when you were at your lowest. I dragged you back to health, gave you power, respect, men, and you betrayed me. You're nothing more than a Cossack bastard, a man who turned his back on Russia to fight for England and then screwed them over too. A cold blooded murderer, willing to destroy anyone who stands in your way. Even those you call your friends.'

Merkalov was panting hard, sweat glistened in the dark hair of his brows. 'I wanted you to take over from me. You could have led my men. Instead you steal half of them and set yourself up as Janus. All for what? Revenge? Or money? Your true motivation, even though you'll never admit it to yourself.'

'Don't forget power,' Alec smirked. 'Power is everything.'

'And right now, you have none,' Merkalov whispered. 'I have your daughter. I've seen your wife. I'll destroy you through them. One word, your daughter dies. A second, and your wife does too. I'll leave you alive though, and their screams will haunt you forever. I'll make sure of that.'

'Touch Natasha and I'll tear your throat out with my bare hands.'

'Only Natasha? What about your wife?'

Alec shrugged, as much as he could pinned to a wall.

'How cold, Alec,' Merkalov snarled. 'There are other ways to break someone than killing them. How would Ashleigh feel if she knew you killed her father? That you watched him die at your feet? Would she forgive you? Does she love you enough that she could forget that? Or does she have your taste for revenge?'

'You've taken her daughter, you'll find out before long.' Alec managed a bitter laugh.

Slowly, Alec was released, Merkalov stepping back enough to let Alec stand flat on the floor once more, rather than balancing precariously on the tips of his toes.

'You're going to do something for me,' Merkalov ordered.

'Haven't I done enough?' Alec's green eyes flashed with cold anger. 'Two men dead on your orders. Who is it this time? Why not get Jasmin to do it for you? She's desperate for your approval.'

'Because this time, you're going to prove your loyalty to me. And me alone.'

And at those words, Alec knew who his next hit would be. He closed his eyes in pain.

'Do this and you can see your daughter.'

Alec knew his fate was sealed. He had no choice.