Dual Abduction
Authors: Eve Langlais
Dual Abduction
(Alien Abduction #3)
By
Eve Langlais
Copyright © February 2012, Eve Langlais
Cover Art by Amanda Kelsey – Razz Dazz Design © February 2012
Content Edited by Brandie Buckwine
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais
Suite 126 — 2377 Hwy #2 Unit 120
Bowmanville ON, L1C 5E2
ISBN:
978-0-9869-154-9-9
Dual Abduction
is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
They both wanted her. The question was, could they share her?
Abducted by alien slavers, along with her group of teenage misfits, Louisa doesn’t think her week can get any stranger until two big purple warriors arrive to the rescue—and then fight over who gets to keep her. Not interested in a winner, she clobbers them, but when they regain consciousness, they’re even more determined to claim her.
Best friends, Brax and Xarn, share everything; loot, jobs, and trouble, until they come across a luscious human who stirs their possessive side. Their battle over who gets to keep her ends in a tie due to matching concussions, but what’s a bruise or two when it comes to winning her as a mate? When she keeps denying them both, they put aside their rivalry to team up and claim the one they want.
Watch out universe, because if you thought the purple warriors known as Brax and Xarn were a menace to the galaxy before, then hang on tight, because hopelessly in love, they’re more deadly—and hilarious—than ever.
Chapter One
The bus plunged over the cliff, and Louisa could only watch, a helpless victim—who was more than a tad annoyed.
How did a vehicle, driven by a man with more than thirty years of experience, on a perfectly clear night, on a dry road lit by bright street lights, manage to depart the asphalt?
The answer to that resided thirty seconds in the past.
Picture a short bus filled with a rowdy bunch of teenage girls, orphans of the state in most cases, returning from a trip to the local museum—an exercise in futility when their interest kept wandering to the cute tour guide instead of the exhibits.
Louisa, their mentor, teacher and house mother for the last three years—because continuity, or so the pilot project stated, was supposed to provide some form of comfort to the delinquents in training—supervised the outing, retaining her sanity through regular doses of Tylenol. Although, the joint she confiscated from Chloe might have proven more effective. After an exhausting day spent chasing down teens who kept slipping away, trying to steal a smoke, tease the cute security guard, having one return three wallets, and making another apologize for sticking gum on a statue’s marble nuts, she couldn’t wait to return to the group home and lock herself in her room, letting the night supervisor take over. The pay sucked, the accommodations left a lot to be desired, and her students were trying to render her to an early grave, so why did she do it? She hoped to find out at her next mental health evaluation. But, she digressed.
So there they were, ambling along the deserted road, bordered by a sheer drop off, guarded by a flimsy rail, when ‘it’ appeared. Sitting in the front row, idly staring out the front window, Louisa blinked when illuminated by the headlights, the goblin-like figure came into sight. Its squat body remained unmoving even with the bus barreling at it, possibly because it put all its hope in the gun it aimed at them. A sane person might have assumed a hallucination, or that one of her girls slipped her acid again, but she could only presume the driver saw the same thing because he slammed on the brakes just as a red beam of light shot from the mirage on the road.
A forgiving person wouldn’t blame the underpaid driver for veering off the asphalt in a panic, even if she personally would have kept her course and run down the foul creature. She didn’t quite understand how the idiot behind the wheel thought travelling the verge would help the situation. The rough, gravel shoulder shook the bus. It also screwed with the vehicle’s traction making them careen out of control, the jerky swerves sending them sliding across vinyl seats. But even the suddenly valid argument for seatbelts on buses was better than when the driver stopped driving altogether, his uniformed body slumping over the steering wheel. A heart attack or a cowardly faint, either was possible given the fright he received, the pussy.
And then things went from bad to worse, because, instead of his foot sliding off the pedal, the unconscious moron applied pressure to the gas. They hit the guard rail—which tore loose with a groan of bending metal worse than nails on a chalkboard—and the bus went airborne.
Speechless with shock, Louisa couldn’t believe her eyes, but her ears had no problem processing the screams of her students as they went flying where no bus was meant to go. The training she received over the years didn’t teach her how to deal with such an unexpected dilemma. As for getting aide from the driver, she doubted he’d provide any given he still lay face down on the wheel. Cowardly idiot.
She pushed aside her less than Christian thought, and instead, said a quick prayer for the driver, asking God—or any deity listening since she wasn’t really picky with death staring her in the face—to forgive his lack of calm and apparently exaggerated driving ability. She also prayed for help—and bladder control.
The quick prayer didn’t seem to have much effect though, because the driver remained unconscious, time didn’t roll back to the moment before the bus swerved, but, she did manage to not pee her pants. Barely.
Her muttered, “Oh shit! This is going to suck,” also had no effect on their flight, a flight that without wings would prove short, a fact her students, well versed in the laws of gravity—along with the laws the juvenile court system—ascertained. With Josie leading the way, uttering a scream of “We’re all going to die!” her class of eleven girls yodeled in terror as they hung suspended in the air.
Suspended?
Louisa blinked, certain she was experiencing one of those time stopping moments where everything slowed down. The calm before death. A time to think back on her life and what she’d accomplished.
Not much.
A moment later, her belief that her demise approached coalesced further as a bright light enveloped the bus, its pure white brilliance shining through the windows, halting the screams so that only hiccups and murmurs of awe filled the air.
Holy shit, there is a God.
Dropping to her knees on the dirty, rubber matted floor, she clasped her hands and gave thanks to the Lord who’d descended from his lofty position to save them and bring them into his open arms. She also begged for forgiveness for all the times she’d taken his name in vain, all the times she’d doubted his existence, and well, for not living exactly a pure Christian life.
With evidence of his power all around them, she felt kind of stupid now for not having faith.
Although, if he wanted me to believe, he could have done something along these lines before. Figures he’d wait until my death to show his hand. Just like a man.
Dammit! She whispered a few more prayers for forgiveness under her breath, forcing her mind to repeat ‘Amen,’ over and over lest more uncharitable thoughts seep in.
“Ms. Fontanna, are we gonna die?” inquired precious—on the outside—Anne, interrupting her inner monologue.
“Probably.” Okay, honestly was not the best policy in all situations, she thought with a wince as the cacophony of wailing resumed. “Girls. Girls!” She shouted to be heard over their clamor. “Stop your weeping. You should be rejoicing, or something. I think we’re going to heaven. Last I heard that was a good thing.” Even if it was happening kind of young, especially for her charges, but such was the will of God—who really shouldn’t let panicky men drive buses.
Oops. Once again, now probably wasn’t the proper time to question His plan.
Why am I trying to piss Him off?
Breaking into song, she quickly whipped her girls into a forced joyous frenzy, the only religious song she could think of being a Christmas one, but at least is had some kind of churchy overtone to it. Although, who cared about the words, the sweet voices of her students were a beautiful, make that enthusiastic, sound that would surely appease even the grumpiest of deities. Their dulcet notes staggered into silence though as a jostle went through the bus. The light abruptly disappeared and a deep rumble vibrated the vehicle all around them—not exactly reassuring, but still better than crashing to their deaths.
I hope.
Louisa turned from the questioning faces to peer out the windshield, squinting at the darkness. At first, she saw nothing. A tremble of doubt made her gnaw her lip. While her charges might have earned their spot in heaven by virtue of being underage—because they certainly weren’t angels—she possibly still had a teensy tiny bit of atonement to do.
Starting with grade two when I kicked Lukas in the jewels for calling me his girlfriend.
Her list of sins just grew from that point. Surely though, her position as a teacher—underpaid and undervalued—for orphans would count for something?
Even if I sometimes compare them to the devil’s own.
A sigh of relief escaped her as a faint light appeared and approached, a bobbing lantern surely held by Peter to guide them through the pearly gates. Or was it Paul? She never could keep their names straight.
Of course, she never thought Peter/Paul would look like a green skinned goblin with sharp tusks and bright red eyes.
Kind of like the one I saw on the road just before we jumped. But uglier.
Uh-oh, maybe the mighty one had heard some of her impure thoughts.
Don’t tell me we ended up in hell?
That would suck.
As it turned out though, God had nothing at all to do with what happened next.
Chapter Two
“Psst.”
The tug on his sleeve had him turning to see who wanted to speak with him. Noting no one in the near vicinity, he was about to turn back to order another beverage when a harder yank, along with an irritated, “I’m down here,” forced his gaze lower.
Brax flicked an appraising glance over the alien trying to snag his attention. The warty skinned female barely reached his waist, and her red eyes really didn’t render her very attractive, but maybe his drunken best friend, wouldn’t mind her less-than stellar looks.
“Hey, Xarn.” He tapped his companion on the shoulder.
Xarn whirled from the bar, a glowing drink in each hand. “What?”
“There’s a female here in need of your services.”
“Really? Who?” He peered around, grinning with his pointed teeth at the females in the environs, the wrong ones. Brax grabbed his head and aimed it down. Xarn blinked before shaking his head free. “She’s short.”
“How short sighted of you,” Brax replied with a snicker at his feeble jest. “You should instead think of her as the right size for dick spinning.”
Understanding dawned in Xarn’s eyes and he peered down at the green alien with a calculating eye. Then, he shook his head. “Not sloshed enough yet to ignore the fact she’s got razor sharp tusks.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Brax addressed the female. “Sorry, but you’ll have to wait. Maybe if you come back later, after he’s imbibed a few more mugs of Quergon ale, he’ll be more in the mood.”
Rejected, her features pinched and her nostrils—all three of them—flared. “I am not looking for sexual adventure. You are Brax and Xarn, are you not? Greatest mercenaries in the galaxy now that Xarn’s cousins, Tren and Jaro, have retired, yes?”
“We were always the best,” Xarn replied as he whipped back around. He momentarily ignored his ale to answer the snide remark. “My blasted cousins just knew how to play the media better.”
“If you say so. I don’t really care. I’ve got a job for you.”
“We’re not really looking for one at this time,” Brax replied. “We just came off a few good heists, um, I mean supply acquisition runs, so we’re flush for the moment. We do, however, thank you for thinking of us.”
