Matchmaker Abduction: Aliens In Kilts, Abduction 1

by Donna McDonald

  Matchmaker Abduction

  Aliens In Kilts, Abduction 1

  Donna McDonald

  Visit Donna’s Website

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Note From the Author

  More About The Aliens In Kilts Series

  Excerpt: Nate’s Fated Mate

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Other Books By This Author

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Donna McDonald

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  Cover by Blackraven’s Designs

  Edited by MYST Partners

  ISBN: 978-1-939988-61-4

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my critique partners, Robyn Peterman and J. M. Madden. I’m so glad our crazy sides match so well. Ya are both the best fecking friends an author ever had.

  Thanks to AJ of Blackraven’s Designs for my awesome covers. I wish I could have seen your face when I hesitantly explained that I wanted hot kilted men and space backgrounds. Did ya think I was daft? I don’t blame ya a bit.

  Thanks to everyone who laughed when I announced my new series was going to be called “Aliens In Kilts” because you’re the reason I went forward with the idea.

  Thanks to my husband for being the one person who kept saying… “Now what’s the new series about again?” Your skepticism was perfect in this case. You are every hero to me and I adore you more than any alien I’ve ever met… I mean, made up.

  Dedication

  This book is for Science Fiction lovers who enjoy a good laugh in their stories. I make fun of our genre only out of the greatest love for our geeky fandom.

  Book Description

  True love is said to defy time, but can it survive space, aliens, and being abducted? Angus MacNamara and Erin O’Shea are about to find out.

  The big blue planet that most call Earth desperately needs matchmakers. There is only one small—okay, BIG—problem. No one wants the alien dating service job… No one. The original matchmakers are dead, and much worse, their DNA is no longer viable for cloning.

  Solution? Go back in time to some of Earth’s other—thankfully slower spinning—versions, and retrieve the alternates of the one couple in any universe who seems able to do the job.

  Far easier said than done though, especially when the alternates are anything but a loving couple, and both are none too pleased to be thrown into the future.

  What does oil and water create? Salad dressing or a real fecking mess of aliens, humans, and matchmaking fun!

  Chapter One

  Universe 6, May 15,1958, on a hill outside Lisdoonvarna, Ireland…

  Angus MacNamara pulled the pistol from the holster on his kilt belt. He checked the chamber, made sure his shot was loaded, then looked down at the grave and glared. Love and hate had always been intertwined in his life. The harpy he had married over forty years ago had been his greatest pleasure and his darkest curse.

  Love weakened a man’s resolve. There was no doubting that for him.

  “Alright, woman. It’s been nine fecking years, but I finally kept my entire promise to yer dying soul. Yer children are married well, even the stubborn ones. Ya have two grandchildren remembering yer name already, five still on the tit, and a few more on the fecking way because our sons and daughter are as lusty as we were in creating them.”

  Angus huffed. “What’s that ya say? I hear ya fussing, even from six feet under. Why did it take so long, Angus? What have ya been doing all this time? This isn’t the 1800s, you crazed old crone. I couldn’t make them hardheads you bore do what they didn’t want to. In fact, I had to fecking bribe most of their intendeds to take them on. Without yer guidance, the last four never got their edges rounded off as well as the first three.”

  Angus stomped his polished black brogue on the ground. The tassels of his father’s clan flapped from the top of his pristine white stockings. His kilt lifted, bringing a welcome breeze under it. Wool in the early summer was never a good idea for a man his size. But he’d wanted to look good today. Being as much Scottish as Irish, he’d wanted closure to come in style, which meant while he was wearing his plaid.

  “Pay attention to me, woman. Stop rolling over down there and laughing at my misery. Do ya think it's been easy for me all these years without ya? Well, it wasn’t, ya cruel creature. I told ya not to die, but no… ya never did listen to me.”

  “I knew ya lost yer flipping mind years ago,” a voice called. “Did ya call me out here to watch ya lose the rest of yer shit, Angus? I’d just as soon not be a part of yer descent into madness if I get a say in things. Plus, I have to tell ya true… the woman ya are talking to will come back and haunt ya good if ya keep stomping on her grave like that.”

  Angus jumped back from the grave and raised the pistol from his side to point it at the mounded dirt on the ground. Most of him was sure it wasn’t his Mary speaking to him from beyond the veil. He wasn’t that many sheets in the wind… or at least he hoped he wasn’t.

  Suddenly a green-eyed glaring angel with shiny, golden brown hair and enormous breasts appeared. Instead of a robe of white, she was wearing some unfortunate man’s stolen pants as she stepped up to face him down. Had he shot himself already and forgotten about it in his dying state? That would just be his fecking luck.

  The angel glared at him over Mary’s grave, but held up her hands at the pistol he finally raised and pointed at her. She wisely backed up a few steps which clued him in about what he was doing. One set of the angel’s fingers gripped a note which she shook at him furiously. If it was a page from the great Book Of Life about him, his angel was sure fecking mad about what was written on it.

  Lowering the pistol, Angus wavered on unsteady legs, wishing now he hadn’t downed so many pints of Guinness. He’d thought it’d be easier to shoot himself if he was drunk. It never occurred to him that both heaven and hell would gang up against him and send a foul-mouthed angel his way as a final torment. He’d honestly thought ya got to settle yer accounts with St. Peter after ya passed on, but not before ya ended things.

  He looked down at the grave again. “Ya could have fecking warned me about the avenging angel coming for me, Mary. What good is it being dead if ya can’t help those ya left behind? She looks mad as the devil ever could look, and now I have to deal with her all by my fecking self. I’ll not be for
getting this betrayal, ya laughing harpy.”

  Erin swore under her breath at the way Angus was dressed. Though a tall woman who dwarfed most men in height, she’d always felt dwarfed herself by the nearly two meters tall Angus MacNamara. That was especially true when he was looking every bit of his Scots-Irish self dressed in his best Prince Charlie outfit. It was criminal the way the man’s long, sculpted legs were just meant for his stupid, fecking kilt.

  Erin muttered a prayer for patience as she rubbed her forehead. Angus was a known horse’s arse when he was drinking, but he usually had the sense not to pack a fecking gun around while in such a condition. What a day this was turning out to be. She didn’t know whether to be worried for Angus’s sanity or to be in mortal fear for her own life.

  “Did ya call me out here to kill me, Angus? Is that what this shit is about? I always knew ya were a competitive sort, but ya could at least try to force me to move first. Yer meddling has nearly ruined my business reputation in this town anyway. Fact is… I’ve been thinking about leaving Lisdoonvarna anyway. No one believes me when I say ya have been buying off the suitors when I know fecking well, it’s the only way ya could ever make a real match.”

  “Erin? Erin O’Shea? Feck ya for not saying hello. I thought ya were an avenging angel come to torment me.”

  Angus stumbled and had to plant his feet firmly to stay standing. He put a hand on his head, but it just wouldn’t stop spinning. Worse, Erin’s complaining always got through even the finest of liquors.

  “Och… are ya daft, woman? Our relationship isn’t that twisted. I would never call ya out to Mary’s grave… not for any reason.”

  Erin O’Shea reached out her hand and shook the paper in it. “Ya are a drunken liar, Angus MacNamara. This is yer handwriting asking me to meet ya here or I’m as dead in the head as yer Mary down there.”

  “Liar? I’m no fecking liar,” Angus barked. He shoved the loaded gun back in its holster, fuming because a man couldn’t even kill himself in peace in this town.

  Stepping across Mary’s grave to get to the woman who’d both aided and hindered him in his matchmaking efforts, Angus yanked the paper from her steady fingers. Seeing them tremble a bit had him remembering that one night his weakness had decided to get the better of him. It had been so long since he’d had a woman, and the ale had gone to his head then too, and… feck it all. A living man had needs, didn’t he? It had only been the one time, but Erin O’Shea made it seem like he’d ruined her forever.

  He looked at his writing on the note, bemused and befuddled by the realness of it. Even as tipsy as he was, he had to admit it was a damn fine replication. “I can see why ya thought this was mine, but I swear on Mary’s grave, I didn’t write this. Tell me truthfully, Erin… ya had this faked to torment me, didn’t ya?”

  Erin fisted hands on her hips. “Why in the Goddess’s name would I bother faking a note from ya that had me traipsing out here to watch ya talk nonsense to a bag of bones in the ground? No one’s down there, Angus. Mary’s spirit left this world at her death. I’ve tried to tell ya that for years.”

  Angus swung the letter around and shook it at her. “How should I know why ya would do something like this to torment me? Ya are a woman, aren’t ya? That makes ya do things no man could ever understand.”

  “Listen here, you drunken arse…” Erin began.

  A throat clearing nearby interrupted her scolding and earned the interrupter a glare she usually reserved for her primary age students at the school where she taught. The throat clearer was just one of a group of five strange men staring hard at her and Angus. They were strangely dressed too. All looked like they were heading for a fancy French funeral.

  The man who had interrupted them hid a smile as he coughed into his hand, but nodded at them both when he saw he’d finally gotten their complete attention.

  “I’m Agent Black from Universe 1. And you are Angus MacNamara and Erin O’Shea from Universe 6. You’re very recognizable and it’s a pleasure to see you both in person.”

  Angus pulled his pistol. He held it at the ready at his side and didn’t point it directly, but he wanted them to know he could… and would… use it if necessary.

  “Who are ya and what do ya want?” Angus demanded. He watched the one who’d done all the talking so far turn to the nearest one behind him. Maybe it was the drink affecting his eyes, or the overcast day making everything dreary, but the men all looked nearly the same to him. He could scarcely tell them apart with their blackened glasses and blacker suits.

  “Are we prepared to insert the U10 version?” Agent Black asked the one behind him.

  “Yes, sir,” his near twin replied.

  Angus cocked his weapon and lifted it. “I don’t think so, boy-o. None of ya will be doing any inserting on me or my lady friend here.”

  Erin put her hand on Angus’s arm. “Stop. They outnumber ya. And ya don’t even know what they’re meaning. Lower yer pistol before ya do something ya might regret.”

  “Get behind me, woman. I’ll take a few of them out before I go. Maybe they’ll change their mind about what they intend to do to ya.”

  Erin snorted and hung on, tugging his arm harder. “If this is another of yer practical jokes to get me behind ya just so ya can fart in my general direction, I’ll not be falling for it this time. Now I insist ya pull yerself out of yer Guinness haze. Lower yer fecking gun before the fecking thing goes off.”

  “It’s alright, ma’am. I appreciate you trying to keep everyone safe, but it’s not necessary. The single bullet he loaded earlier has already been removed from Mr. MacNamara’s gun. He won’t be able to harm anyone even if he tries to shoot,” Agent Black said quietly.

  Erin turned as Angus pointed the gun to the sky and shot. The trigger clicked, but nothing happened. He jerked from her grasp to examine his pistol.

  “What the feck is going on here? It can’t be empty. I just chambered that round,” Angus declared.

  Erin watched in stunned fascination as the one calling himself Agent Black calmly shrugged.

  “Yes, sir. You did chamber a round. In the time space just after you performed that action and just before Ms. O’Shea arrived here, one of my men briefly inserted himself in a time stop and emptied the chamber while you were distracted with your speech. You were so determined to end your life that we thought it best to intervene a bit earlier than planned.”

  Erin turned to glare at the man beside her. “Angus Ian MacNamara,” she said in shock. “Ya were going to end yer own life? Why?”

  “My thoughts are my own fecking business… and none of yers… or theirs,” Angus said tersely, his head tilting to the men dressed all in black.

  Her single glance back to Agent Black caught the pitying look on his face. Fecking Angus. He was always landing them both in a giant pile of shit.

  “I’m sorry to traumatize you, Ms. O’Shea, but your presence is now needed as well. That’s why we sent you the note from Mr. MacNamara. Two matchmakers are required. It’s been decided to take the pair of you while it’s still possible.”

  Erin gasped at the admission and shook the note at all the men dressed in black. “I can’t believe ya would be so conniving. May Brighid split ya from gut to gullet on my behalf.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Agent Black said cheerfully. “I am fully versed in ancient Celtic legends from your universe’s timeline. Brighid was the goddess of the hearth and forge, but also the defender of women.”

  “I’ll show ya a defender of women,” Angus said, starting toward the man intending to beat the crap out of at least one of them so they’d know he wasn’t fooling around.

  “Wait… did ya just say that ya fecking stopped time?” Erin yelled the crazy query in disbelief. Then she started walking toward the man she was trying to save. “Angus, stop… I’m telling ya no good will come from yer impulsive actions.” She picked up her pace, reached out, but Angus speeded up too. “Will ya at least try to control yer drunken self? They’re obviously mad as diseased h
ens. Get your big arse back here.”

  “Shut up, woman,” Angus yelled. “Can’t ya see I’m trying to protect us?”

  Erin shook her head fiercely. “No. All I see is an eegit walking half-cocked into a fight with a group of men half his age. Sure now, they’re a skinny lot compared to ya, but I think it will only take a couple to bring ya down. Lay off the lads, you old fool. How much did ya drink today?”

  “Actually, it will only take one of us to stop him,” Agent Black said calmly. He motioned with his hand and another of the men pointed a device at a still advancing Angus. A few seconds later, Angus dropped face first to the ground, landing like a large stone.

  Calling out in alarm, Erin ran forward and stooped down to check him. “Angus, talk to me,” she demanded, but there was no answer. She looked up and glared at Agent Black. “Bastard. Ya didn’t have to kill him.”

  Agent Black smiled. “Rest assured, Ms. O’Shea. I didn’t take his life. I merely subdued Mr. MacNamara while we insert his alternate version from Universe 10 who died just this morning of natural causes. They don’t bury their dead there, so we gathered the body up for our use before they could incinerate it. Mr. MacNamara’s U10 self will show all the signs of having had a heart attack which will allow Mr. MacNamara’s U6 self to travel back with us unmissed. His children will find the U10 alternate and bury him beside his wife. That’s what would have happened anyway if he’d shot himself… probably. Whatever the case, that’s the plan we’re going with today.”

  Erin’s mouth dropped open for the second time. Her brain was spinning, but she figured it best to go along with the crazies. “What do ya plan to do with the still live Angus now? I didn’t quite catch what ya said about the matter.”