Ten Brides for Ten Hot Guys

by Donna Fasano

  Angelina could tell by Coralee’s remarks that she remembered her boss suffered from claustrophobia. Not long ago, she’d seen her panic in a small elevator.

  “Someone will come soon.” Coralee soothed.

  “As long as I’m not alone, I’ll be okay.”

  Just then, debris shifted and gave way. A horrendous crash split the quiet of the room. Angelina screamed and again hid her face. Every bone in her body stiffened in resentment at this further torture. She wheezed in a breath, held on and then groaned in a continuous melody of defiance.

  It stopped! The monster was teasing.

  Seconds later, she called out. “Coralee, that sounded like it came from your direction.”

  She waited; her ears primed for any sounds...anything at all.

  “Coralee?” This time she yelled.

  Silence.

  A feeling of hopelessness washed over her. Curling into herself, sniffles and hiccups were the only sounds she made. Please, please let Coralee survive! She couldn’t have persevered over the last two years without her best friend’s help. Coralee worked almost as hard as Angelina did toward her dream of owning her accounting firm. How could she manage without her?

  “Coralee? Can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  Sick and tired of feeling like a victim, Angelina took stock of her situation. Knees shaking, she unlocked her fingers and rubbed knuckles that were sore from being twisted and squeezed. The voice of reason gave her hell. Do something!

  She wiggled around carefully, and realized that the huge old desk had sheltered and saved her. Rather than crawling under something that could have collapsed on top of her, it had been smart to crouch beside a strong piece of furniture.

  In the darkness, she blindly extended her hands to the smooth feel of the overturned filing cabinet that had imprisoned her. It had formed a slanted roof from the desk to the floor. Thankfully, purchasing the strongest type of steel-lined cabinets, she’d chosen strength and fire safety over frugality.

  Trying to shift her legs from the sideways position they’d slid into, her hands reached out again and felt her slender naked thighs. Wetness from blood spotted her legs and the cuts burned. Her skirt, a good portion which had somehow wrapped itself around her waist, wouldn’t come loose.

  Frightened to shift anything, it still seemed important she cover herself. Whimpering, she tried gently yanking and tugging. Her hands encountered a solid object near her left knee. Oh God… my cell phone!

  Suddenly, wailing sirens pierced the deadly silence, bringing instant relief. So did the light when she opened her small pink phone and frantically pushed the numbers.

  “Nine-one-one! State your emergency.”

  “Hello! Thank God! Listen, my name is Angelina Serrano—”

  “Could you speak louder, Angelina?”

  Swallowing the dryness, she raised her voice. “We’re trapped on the third floor of my building at 7211 Fort Street.”

  “Who’s we? Do you know who else is with you?”

  “Yes. My assistant, Coralee Becker, is here. There could be others confined below that I don’t know about. Please! My friend is hurt. Since the last aftershock she hasn’t spoken. We need help! I heard the sirens outside. Can you send in someone to get us out?”

  “Yes, the emergency crews will be with you shortly. Are you injured?”

  “No… no. I suffer from claustrophobia and being trapped is killing me. But I’m mostly just scared.”

  “Don’t be, we’ll be getting to you as soon as possible. I want you to stay on the line. Okay? Don’t hang up.”

  “I’ll try, but my battery is low. I don’t know how long it has left.” Her voice broke. Pressure from smothering her sobs and exasperation at her oversight of not plugging in her phone made talking almost impossible.

  “Okay. Don’t worry. Someone will be in contact as soon as they’re ready to come in for you. I have your number. I want you to hang up and stay calm. Try calling to your friend periodically to wake her up.”

  Just then, the blood-chilling horror started again. She screamed, “I will. Hurry!” Swallowing, she gathered whatever moisture her parched mouth could find, at least enough to lick her lips. Then she counted the seconds.

  And she waited.

  Startling her, the Macarena - her dial tone - rang into the stillness. The racket buoyed up Angelina’s spirits like nothing else could have.

  Manipulating her talk button, she heard a soft-spoken male voice. “Hello. Miss Serrano? Angelina Serrano? It’s Dr. Joe Davidson. I’m with Search and Rescue.” The man spoke soothingly, and his calmness beguiled her into uncharacteristic chattiness.

  “Dr. Davidson, can you come and get us? Hurry! Please! Everything here is unstable. It could all come crashing down any moment, and my friend Coralee is hurt. She needs medical attention.” A sobbing gasp escaped. Connecting with another person had filled her with hope.

  “We’re coming, Angelina. I understand you have a low battery so hang up now, and we’ll call you right back as soon as we’re set up to come into the building.”

  Hang up? Dios, not again! Slowly, she ended the call. Darkness surrounded her once more.

  Praying for an answer, Angelina took a deep breath and cried out, “Coralee, can you hear me. They’re coming for us.”

  “I hear you, Angelina. What happened?”

  “You’re back? Thank God! An aftershock is what happened. You stopped talking, and I came close to losing it. Where exactly are you?”

  “In hell,” answered Coralee.

  “Okay then, where in the hell are you?” The wisecrack made her grin, and from out of the darkness the answering chuckle cheered her as nothing else could have.

  “I’m under Johnnie’s desk and seriously trapped.” Coralee coughed harshly.

  “They’re on their way, cara. The sexy voice of a Dr. Joe Davidson promised me they’re working on it.”

  Coralee groaned. “Well, Dr. Joe needs to work faster.” Another bout of coughing ensued. Then she croaked. “I need the ladies’ room!”

  Chapter 2

  Joe Davidson wrapped the messy waves of his hair behind his ears and rubbed his aching eyes. Taking his hand from the steering wheel, he brushed stiff fingers over his day-old beard and massaged his weary face. Today had been a long shift, on top of a late night playing hard to get: his sister-in-law, Mary’s, latest choice of "a-wife-for-brother-Joe" had ruined the previous evening for everyone. With her non-stop chatter, sly innuendos and birdbrain opinions, this candidate had caused more eye-rolling than anyone had ever done before.

  A blunt chat with his brothers sat first on his to-do list. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more set-ups or blind dates.

  Zoning out on the day’s stresses, Joe thought about his situation.

  Married friends and family sabotaged him constantly, and set him up every chance they got. His being single and happy really seemed to bother the hell outta them.

  A few years back, he’d had a close call—almost joined their ranks. At the time, he’d thought he wanted to get married more than anything in the world. Then his fiancée, Sara, had met Cody, one of his older brothers, and sparks had ignited. Within a short time, Cody’s ring had replaced Joe’s, and the wedding had gone ahead. To show there were no hard feelings, Joe had offered his services as best man. But erased pain was still a lesson inflicted, and in his case—well learned. Neither women nor love were to be trusted.

  Now, pathetically, rather than watching his back, or standing up for his right of bachelorhood, his brothers—all older than him—were crumbling under their partner’s demands. The sad, ass-chewed cowards were falling in with their obsessive wives’ plans to mend his damaged heart, and find him someone to replace Sara.

  It was a real pain to be the youngest of the six Davidson boys. And to make matters a thousand times worse, there were five sister-in-laws attached like conjugal twins to those poor saps. Just thinking about it caused shudders and a nauseating aggravation.

 
; A shrieking horn snapped Joe out of his reverie and back to the present. After dropping his tired crew off, he’d taken his turn to drive the Search and Rescue vehicle back to the parking bay, his last chore before he could claim the rights to a cold beer and a long hot shower.

  Stretching his length, and flexing his muscular frame as much as he could while wedged in the space behind the wheel, he thought back over the horrendous day.

  Many times, volunteering for the Victoria Search and Rescue Special Services Unit could be hectic as hell. In the last two days, he’d had call outs to three major situations. Being a part-time doctor, albeit of Chinese medicine, and taking umpteen lifesaving courses in land and sea rescue created huge demands for him to undertake the worst accidents.

  The pealing of the dash phone tweaked him out of his trance.

  “Yeah. Joe here.”

  “Hi Joe, it’s Lee. We need you downtown. An earthquake has demolished some sections of the city—”

  “An earthquake?”

  “Yep, a 7.3! Crazy, eh? It hit mid-island, west of Nanaimo. It’s a mess down here. We have some folks trapped in a building on Fort Street and we’ll need you to get here as soon as possible.”

  “On my way.” Wheeling the special vehicle in the direction of the downtown area, Joe hit the lever on the dash. Light bars flashing and sirens blaring warned other drivers to beware.

  How could he not have known an earthquake had erupted northwest of the city? Obviously, it hadn’t registered where he, along with his crew, had saved the lives of three people stranded on a capsized boat off the south coast. Working on the water was one facet of his job he found severely frustrating. Today the helicopter rescue had been cold and wet, grueling and treacherous.

  The city of Victoria, situated on the southern tip of Vancouver Island, was a tourist haven for a variety of incautious visitors who didn’t understand the dangers of coastal waters. They took terrible, heedless risks in the turbulent seas. At times, situations ended tragically. On the good days, because of the Coast Guard and the Search and Rescue, they didn’t. Thankfully, today’s success reaffirmed Joe’s choice of livelihood.

  But earthquakes on the island were rare—especially ones that strong. Being a high-risk zone due to underlying geological pressures, small tremors often occurred and were treated as normal. The earth’s plates in this region were conducive to seismic activity, and Joe knew the geologists expected some movement, but this event was astonishing.

  Chapter 3

  Once Joe arrived at his destination, he saw that chaos ruled the scene. Piles of rubble from broken buildings littered the sidewalks. Damaged vehicles flung helter-skelter looked surreal. Dislodged overhead wires, hanging and swaying from lopsided telephone poles, were dangerously shooting sparks.

  Looking like aliens in their gear, Joe spotted several workers cordoning off the area for safety. Flung from pressurized windows, pieces of glass were still raining down in every direction. In the sparse light they looked like floating chunks of crystal, but in actuality were a deadly menace.

  Ear-splitting sounds reverberated from the huge screaming dozer working down the middle of the street, opening up a path for the special vehicles. The horrendous noise added to the atmosphere of unreality with bizarre, movie-like intensity.

  Waving him down, Joe’s partner, Lee Nivens, anxiously awaited him. A retiring, likable fellow and Joe’s best friend, dependable Lee was always available for an evening out with the boys.

  First things first; Joe inspected his buddy to make sure he wasn’t injured. As usual, Lee’s uniform hung on his string-bean body. Having worked with him for a number of years, Joe knew those loose folds hid muscular wiriness. Lee’s overly large ears evoked Joe’s grin; tactless maybe, but a reflex nonetheless. And his warm grey eyes, always cheerful, had Joe unconsciously reacting with a smile.

  Still behind the wheel, Joe questioned, “What’s up, Swift?” Gesturing to one of the younger workers to take the vehicle away, he stepped out and gave his full attention to Lee.

  Calm and composed, Lee gave him the lowdown. “It’s a standalone building, Joe, with three floors. They’ve recently renovated the first two. Guess it’s their good luck that the bulk of the damage is on the third.”

  “Where people are trapped?”

  “On the third floor.” Lee grimaced.

  “Figures.”

  “The landlady, Angelina Serrano, called Emergency. As far as she knows, there’s one other woman with her for sure. Seems that victim is injured and floating in and out of unconsciousness. Miss Serrano says she’s personally okay, but she’s trapped, in the dark, frightened and slightly claustrophobic.”

  “How slightly?”

  “Emergency says she’s making sense, but the strain is starting to tell in her voice. We’ll have to get to her quickly before she completely loses it. One other thing: her cell phone power is low. They had to limit the use.”

  “Shit! Why me, Lord? Why do I always have to get the tricky cases?”

  “Because you’re a good man.” Grin splitting his face, Lee connected with Angelina and passed the phone to Joe.

  Chapter 4

  “I can hear you grumbling, Angie. Something’s wrong?” Coralee’s voice seemed to come from far away.

  “My hair’s come loose and it’s all over my face. I hate this mess!”

  “Girlfriend, how many times have I told you to get it cut? You complain about it all the time. I can send you to my hairdresser, she’ll doll you up.”

  Not sure what Coralee meant by getting dolled up, and knowing she’d never let the same hands touch her hair that created the multi-colored, crazy-modern styles her assistant often wore, Angelina ignored the offer. “I told you, I promised my father I wouldn’t cut it.”

  “So he’s in Chile, and you’re in Canada.”

  “Yes, well the promise flew over with me.”

  “Ha! You’re so not funny. Stop letting that old tyrant rule your decisions. You’ve worked like a maniac for the last two years because of him. When are you going to live your own life?”

  Realizing that Coralee was keeping her talking so she wouldn’t panic, Angelina gladly kept the conversation going. “He’s not an old man, he’s barely sixty. I’ve told you before, because of his hard work and perseverance, Serrano and Sons is the biggest and best accounting firm in Santiago.”

  “Don’t forget your two brothers. Surely, they’ve helped?”

  “Yes, but they only joined recently. He alone started the company and, as he likes to brag, owned it outright after two years.”

  “Is that why you’ve been working day and night like a lunatic with that big red X on your calendar for the end of March?”

  “I never told you the full story, did I? Before I left Chile, he and my brothers had decided that I should marry Fernando Regaldo, who they thought would suit me perfectly. When they called me to the office, I had mistakenly believed that my receiving honors from the University for completing my CGA degree would be my entrance into the family business. And the invitation to come to the workplace was to offer me a position. You won’t believe how angry it made me to think that, after all my accomplishments, they wanted me to meet their hand-picked gigolo, get married and have bambinos. Bah!”

  “Ahhh… now I get it! I’ve seen you in a Spanish snit a time or two, so I’m surprised they weren’t taken to the ER.”

  “I know you joke, Coralee, but it was a very bad time for me. I demanded to know what it would take for them to offer me the position in Serrano’s that I had earned and deserved.”

  “Don’t tell me. You had to accomplish what your father had done? Right?”

  “They said the office was no place for me. I needed to get serious about my future. Stop trying to be a rebel and do what the other young girls of my station did, provide their papás with grandchildren.”

  “Oh ho! I would love to have been a fly on the wall to see what you did then.”

  Angelina felt herself flush and had to swallo
w a few times before she could bring herself to admit to her total meltdown. “I guess I lost it. Told them I was leaving, going to Canada, and I’d start my own firm and… do it in two years. I made them promise that if I succeeded, they would give up their old-fashioned views and allow me my place in Serrano’s. They laughed and agreed.”

  “Bastards! But why come all the way to Canada? Weren’t there other cities in Chile you could move to?”

  “Not where their reach couldn’t sabotage my efforts. I needed to be completely away from them. So I moved to Victoria.”

  “Not fair. They forced you to come to a strange country to prove what your credentials had already proven, that you’re a brilliant accountant.”

  “Not so strange. Remember I’d visited this beautiful city to see my grandmother every year and came to love the place. Thanks to her, my English is flawless. And, as you know, accounting principles are the same everywhere.”

  “Still! I’m pissed off at your family. I just pray we can get out of this situation and back to work. Now you’ve got me wanting to show them how wrong they were.”

  “It’s what’s kept me going these last two years. Though after this, I don’t know.” Angelina had to stop, or completely break down and maybe scare her friend into thinking she wasn’t stable.

  “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get it done. You, me and Johnnie, plus the other girls in the office. We’ll all help you…”

  Her phone’s noise made Angelina jump, and quickly swipe at her nose and cheeks.

  “Dr. Davidson, is that you? Can you hurry? Coralee desperately needs attention—”

  Interrupting, he replied, “Copy that! Thought you’d like to know, Angelina, it seems the rest of your people managed to get out safely. Right now we’re trying to locate the floor plans for the building. We’ve notified your contractor, who will be arriving shortly. Before I forget, do you want me to call anyone for you? Your family, a husband or a boyfriend, someone who can come and look after you when you’re released—maybe take you home and stay with you?”