Loose Cannon: The Van Helsen Series, #4

Loose Cannon

The Van Helsen Series, Volume 4

L Tait

Published by L Tait, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

LOOSE CANNON

First edition. November 16, 2015.

Copyright © 2015 L Tait.

ISBN: 978-1519916624

Written by L Tait.

Also by L Tait

The Van Helsen Series

Frenemies

Home Truths

The Reunion

Loose Cannon

Satan's Game

Artistic Differences

Keeping Secrets

Identity Crisis

Undecided...

Standalone

If Only!

School Daze!

Random Quest

I'm Not As Green As I'm Cabbage Looking!

The Work Experience

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By L Tait

Loose Cannon (The Van Helsen Series, #4)

Did you ever get the feeling that you were a stranger in your own life, experiencing things that you felt should have been happening to someone else?

Well, for some time, that’s how I felt.

Okay, to be honest, I had been feeling like that for almost half a year, where so many bizarre things had happened to me that I couldn’t believe they had ever taken place.

But, there was no disputing the fact that they had happened.

The life of myself, Hazel Woodford, had been turned upside down over the past few months or so, and, although, during the course of this time, I’d met the most amazing man, I’d suffered a great deal of grief and anguish during my turbulent time with him, in order to reach this somewhat quieter phase in my life, which, I hoped, would last indefinitely. 

Considering all that had happened, I felt that both he, and myself, along with our daughter, Jana, deserved some peace.

The man in question, Kris Van Helsen, with whom I’d shared so many truly deep, and meaningful experiences, dreams, and aspirations, had been working in the school I had been attending, Willsden High, until recently, anyway, when events took an unexpected turn, and had resulted in me having to do some really outlandish things.

If I were to say that I’d faced death too many times to count, had been introduced to the most venomous woman who’d ever walked the Earth, a woman so venomous that she could have given a boa constrictor a run for its money, and on top of all that, I had wilfully seduced a high profile pop star (who, inadvertently, believed himself to be in love with me, perhaps on the basis of this), then, I still wouldn’t be telling you the full story to date.

However, that said, after a truly explosive conclusion, every person who’d supposedly had it in for Kris and I from minute one, had been effectively dealt with, and now, the main focus of our attention was our forthcoming wedding, and, I felt, and still feel, even now, that the fates were conspiring against us ever being together officially, as husband and wife, because, every time Kris and I even came close to getting everything the way we wanted it, something would always get in the way.

Nevertheless, contrary to my previously held beliefs, things seemed to have settled down.

But, there was one problem I had to solve.

Kris and I were facing what was commonly referred to as a Mexican standoff, pistols at dawn situation, concerning the type of wedding we wanted to have.

Kris, at his father Vincent’s behest, agreed that a huge celebrity Hello! kind of bash would show the world, particularly his home country of Norway, that his family had finally put the past behind them, and that their only, much loved son, had found true happiness after his bittersweet first marriage to the snake in the grass that was Cassandra.

I, on the other hand, wanted to stay out of the limelight, and keep it private, as I had the distinct feeling that, given Kris’s past, the publicity could quite easily backfire on the pair of us.

And, I said so, one morning, about a week after the reunion party that had quite literally gone off with a bang.

Kris and I were seated at the wrought iron table that stood on the balcony of our new home, in Bergen, (which had been a wedding present from Kris’s parents) having breakfast and enjoying one of those rare sunny days, watching all of the activity that was taking place, down below us, in the city centre.  It looked like everyone was in miniature, going about their daily business, like something out of Trumpton, a T.V show I vaguely remembered from what seemed like a long time ago.

‘So...what’s on your mind, Haze?’ Kris asked,his gentle, melodious voice breaking into my distant childhood daydream.

‘Oh, it’s nothing, really, Kris.’ I began, focusing my attention on spreading marmalade on to a slice of wholemeal toast.  ‘I just don’t see why we have to go through with some big media orientated, press initiated wedding.  Couldn’t we just forget all about it, and keep it between ourselves, and our immediate family?’ I implored.

However, Kris wasn’t going to back down on this matter.

‘Haze.’ he started, pausing to pour himself a glass of grapefruit juice, ‘What, exactly, are you worried about? It’s all over, child.  What harm could a big wedding actually do? Everyone who held a grudge against us, no longer exist.’ he added pointedly, sipping his drink, thoughtfully.

‘Maybe, but, the one demon that still exists, and is very much out there, and practically omnipresent on such occasions, may prove to be our greatest challenge.’I replied, candidly.

Kris stared at me with a quizzical, almost bemused, look on his face.

‘What ‘demon’ would you be referring to here, Haze?’ he questioned, a note of confusion creeping into his voice.  ‘I mean, stop talking in riddles and just spit it out!’

‘Okay, okay!’ I conceded, stirring my coffee, furiously rattling the teaspoon against the sides of the mug, in an agitated manner, ‘I was referring to the Press, Kris.  That whole media circus that made life Hell for us not so long ago.  What’s to stop them from doing it again?’

‘Goodness, Haze, what could they possibly do in light of this?’ Kris laughed.  ‘They’ll be on our side, for once.’ he assured me confidently, reaching for the morning newspaper that had been delivered to the Fjellhus earlier that morning.

‘Hmm.’ I said sceptically, sipping my coffee, as a means of hiding my cynical expression.

Kris regarded me with what could only be described as a ‘What am I going to do with you?’ look, before he unfolded the newspaper, and proceeded to study its, (what I believed to be, anyway) rather disproportionate, sensationalised, and ambiguous contents.

An unreadable, almost pensive look passed across his face, and I picked up on his change of expression at once.

‘So...what is it this time? Are we in for yet another roller coaster, white knuckle ride, thanks to the tabloids, or have they decided to spare us, and pick on some other, poor, unsuspecting souls?’ I inquired, my voice laced with a mixture of pessimism and sarcasm.

‘Must you always be so negative, Haze?’ Kris admonished, still refusing to look up from his newspaper.

Annoyed, I snatched it from his grasp, curious to see  what was commanding his seemingly undivided attention.

And, there it was.

Kris rolled his eyes heavenwards as I looked down at the newspaper that I’d so eagerly taken from him only moments before.

There, on the front page of the morning edition of Bergen Today, was a photograph of haulage equipment lifting, out of a gorge, what appeared to be the burnt out remains of Kris’s jeep, that had been at the centre of so much carnage only a week ago.

We were both still trying to come to terms with what had happened, not just to ourselves, but also, Kris’s family, who hadn’t escaped unscathed either.

Kris now had a small, but permanent scar on his forehead, where he’d escaped serious injury after having been captured, as the result of a trap, and his astute mind leading him right into it.

Meanwhile, I just wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened, but this was turning out to be a very difficult task, and, seeing the wreckage of Kris’s beloved jeep (which, he said, must have been cursed, or jinxed, maybe both), only brought it all back to us.

Suddenly, I felt a chill sweep right through me, just at the mere memory of what had happened that night.

Swiftly regaining my composure, I asked,

‘So...what, exactly are the press so excited about now? I thought that was yesterday’s news.’

Kris shot me a very awkward look in response to this statement.

‘A-hem, er, well...Hazel,’ he replied, tentatively, running a hand haphazardly through his thick blond hair(a physical gesture now synonymous with his imparting of difficult information to me, which I was used to seeing, but, it still made me slightly uneasy), and clearing his throat in a theatrical manner.

‘The thing is, Hazel,’ he continued, ‘is that, all of the attention the media has been devoting to us, of late, has created quite a bit of interest in more, um, cultural quarters.’

Now I was completely lost. What was Kris on about?  I knew him very well, but, his having been formally trained as an English teacher (as well as having recently qualified as a Federal Agent), meant that he had a way of putting things that were so cryptic, I found him difficult to understand, at times.

So, I said so.

'And what, exactly, do you mean by that, Kris?’ I asked, genuinely puzzled.

'What I meant, Haze, is that the press attention we’ve received has resulted in influential people, such as movie directors, documentary makers, authors, and so on, queuing up to make us the subject of their prospective projects.’

'Ah.  Now I see what you’re getting at, Kris.  Is that what Bergen Today’s front page article is all about? What with the picture of the wreckage of the jeep and all?’

'Ja.  Seems like staying out of the public eye is but a distant dream now.’ sighed Kris, wistfully.

'Too true, Dearest.  So, what did all those movie moguls and book boffins have in mind for us, hmm? Don’t look at me like that, Kris!’ I warned, as a knowing smile started working its way across his face.  'I’m just curious, that’s all.’ I added.

'Well, Haze, as it happens, I’ve been keeping a close eye on the country’s gossip columns and scandal sheets, and some of the proposed projects may surprise you.’ revealed Kris, with a mysterious, but ominous tone in his voice.

Now I was really intrigued.

‘So? Tell me! Please!’ I pleaded, fixing him with my most soulful and deprived lost puppy look, which usually got me what I wanted(well, most of the time, anyway).

But, Kris was determined to keep me in suspense, and chewed his toast almost painfully slowly with a mischievous grin fixed firmly on his handsome features, and he wiggled his eyebrows at me in the style of Groucho Marx, as he raised his glass of grapefruit juice and sipped it in an almost comical fashion.

Despite my unsatisfied curiosity, I laughed.  Kris had a sense of humour that would put almost all of the world’s greatest comedians to shame.

At length, he placed his empty glass down on the wrought iron table.

‘It would appear, if the tabloids have done their homework, and everything adds up correctly, for once, that a certain famous movie director has expressed a great deal of interest in making a blockbuster out of our story.’ he revealed, his blue green eyes sparkling with undisguised amusement.

‘Really? Who?’ Have the Hollywood geniuses James Cameron and Stephen Spielberg taken time out of their hectic schedules chasing aliens and dinosaurs to mingle with the commoners?’ I