by Donna Fasano
“Estupido! Imbecil! Dios—why is it that so much of your attention was wasted on men’s egos, and not on their brains?”
Spanish invectives flowed from under him as the noise of the wreckage finally abated. Sounded like she was pretty mad! God, he loved her voice. It was his last coherent thought.
Chapter 7
Pummeled and cold-cocked by a huge section of wall that somehow had shaken loose after the last aftershock, Joe’s body wasn’t stirring. Dust, drywall and timbers blanketed them. The big man shrouded Angelina to the point where she couldn’t move. Stunned but unhurt, she lay there pinned down and more furious than she could ever remember feeling. Now what?
“Help” she called out. She called again louder, but there was no reply. Not surprising, since her voice sounded more like a croak than anything else.
His warmth settled into her and seeped through to her bones. It was one thing to be thankful for. Unfortunately, his weight also crushed her, making breathing difficult. His abrasive whiskers, scratching her cheek, caught her attention next. He was so close she felt his breath on her cheek. A faint odor of coffee was noticeable and she wished he’d brought some of it with him. She sighed with relief at the strong rhythm of each inhalation.
Her hands, trapped under her skirt, were difficult to loosen, but she clawed this way and that until they were free. It was obvious to her that she needed to be in charge of their destiny. She couldn’t afford to wait around for someone to come and find them. But, on the other hand, she had to take care not to bring another barrage down on them either.
Go slow, she thought. Stay calm and don’t panic. Hearing those words in her own mind made her giggle; insanity too close for comfort. Joe would be so proud! More giggles…
What a stupid time to laugh, but she just couldn’t help it. I think I’m losing it!
Carefully, she wriggled, pushed and shoved her way out from under his body, a little at a time, until she was free and lying next to him. Then she stole his headgear so she could use his lamp to check the area. Removing the debris that covered him, taking the smaller pieces first until she’d freed him and cleared the space, she gave thanks that the timber that had initially dropped on them had rolled from his body, ending up wedged against the wall.
During this time, she screamed for help but no one answered. The clamoring and crashing sounds from the machines outside must be hindering the rescuers from hearing her calls.
Maybe that last crash had left them stranded upstairs. She didn’t know but couldn’t wait. What if the unconscious man needed medical attention? She had to do something. If he’d made it to her, it meant they’d cleared a path. She had to find it and go for help, and he had to come with her. Scanning her surroundings, she realized only half the roof had collapsed. The rest could come down at any minute. She needed to move quickly.
With extreme caution, she unjammed the debris that blocked their route. Nails broken, hands and knees scraped and bleeding, she heaved with all her might, wishing herself another forty pounds heavier and three inches taller. Like her papa often said, she’s stubborn as the devil even if she is my little Angel. Finally, she had an opening.
She turned Joe over with the utmost care, all the while sobbing and ranting under her breath. Then she tucked his arms over each other on his chest, and scurried over his body to his feet. Hefting his boots in her small hands, she dug in her heels and pulled him slowly, from side to side. Lugging him inch by inch towards where she knew the stairs were hurt like hell. Her back and arms throbbed, as did the returning headache. The man was a deadweight, and she was bone weary, but fear pumped her adrenaline and gave her strength. She knew she had to get them out of the building before another aftershock struck. He was hers to save, and she would if it killed her.
“It’s okay Angelina, I’m right here.” A gentle voice spoke softly from behind her.
“You‘re almost to the stairs, and from then on it’s clear. Let me change places with you so I can pull him the rest of the way.”
Her hands clutched Joe’s pant legs so tightly she had to send a message to her brain to let go, but it wasn’t listening. Tears of fury stained her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Her hair, which had worked itself free from the braid, hung over everything, curtaining Joe.
“Miss, you can let go now.”
Leave him? “No, we’re almost there. Here, grab his other leg.” She held onto one and moved to let the rescuer get the other, and then they pulled simultaneously. Within seconds, they were free. Many hands were waiting, ready to help, to take over, and to pry her fingers from Joe’s pant leg.
Once on the street, the stranger solemnly wrapped a blanket around Angelina and introduced himself. “Miss Serrano, I’m Lee Nivens.”
Twisting frantically and half-crazed, Angelina pushed at Lee’s restraining hands and tried to follow Joe’s stretcher to the ambulance.
Chapter 8
Lee held her back, his voice firm. “Angelina, it’s over. You’re safe, and Joe will be fine. His breathing and color were good. I think he must have gotten knocked out.” Passing her a bottle of water, he intimated that he wanted her to take a drink.
After a few sips to moisten her mouth and clear away some of the dryness, she said, “I tried to warn him, Lee. I really did. The stubborn fool wouldn’t listen when I told him to stop. Then the wall collapsed on top of him.” Her glazed eyes stared fixedly into Lee’s. The bottle fell from her nerveless fingers.
Lee chuckled and turned her toward the area where they’d parked an ambulance. “Joe’s hardheaded, so it’ll take a lot more than a wall to kill him. It’s you I’m worried about. We’ll get you checked over, and if everything’s okay, we’ll get you home.”
Minutes later, he hustled her across the wet, blackened, partially-cleared street and into the back of the waiting ambulance. The attendants did the usual checkup and found that she was slightly dehydrated, exhausted and had surface wounds, but nothing serious. They carried on with first aid, cleaning up the worst of her cuts and scrapes. After she’d wheedled permission to leave, she joined Lee.
Just then, her contractor, Ray, spotted her. He pushed his way forward to pat her hands. “Angel, are you okay? What did the doctor say?”
Automatically, she told him, “Don’t call me that, Ray. You, more than anyone, should know I’m no Angel.”
Ray grinned. “Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine, a bit tired, but otherwise good.” She glanced past him, and sadness covered her expression as she spied her beloved building.
“Donna you worry your pretty head about the place. I’ll board it tonight, and I’ll be back tomorrow to check the damage. I know you have good insurance, I helped you choose it. So, go home and get some rest now, my girl.”
Looking at the men as if they were imbeciles, Angelina sighed, “I can’t go home, I have to go to the hospital and see how Coralee is.”
“You go home,” Ray all but shouted. He assumed a stance that everyone who knew him well was familiar with: his hands went to his hips, fingers to the front and thumbs to the back. Leaning into her face threateningly, fully prepared to get his way, he glared at her.
Muttering Spanish imprecations under her breath, temper flaring, she copied him. Dropping her blanket, she swung her head first one way and then the other to clear all the bulk of her messy locks out of her face. She stepped closer to him and with eight, maybe less, inches of space between them; she raised her small pointed chin and stared him down. Then she spat out, “I am going to the hospital.”
“No! You are not! You are going home.”
Lee, trying to help, angled himself beside Ray and cleared his throat. They both ignored him.
“I am going to the hospital.” Now, all but screaming, in her befuddled mind, Angelina knew her place. First she had to see to Coralee. Then, she needed to check up on the idiot who’d almost killed them both while trying to save her.
“Tomorrow you go. Tonight you go home and rest.” The Italian contractor
had crews of men who would have fled hearing his tone.
But it didn’t even faze Angelina. “My friend is in the hospital, and I am going there.” Following this shouted avowal came a sob, and then another, and inevitably out of her gorgeous eyes poured a gush of tears.
Galvanized, both men bobbed their heads up and down, and concurred.
“Okay, okay! So you’re going to the hospital.”
Lee, eyes full of contrition, spoke up. “I’ll take you.”
Chapter 9
When Lee and Angelina arrived, they could see the Emergency ward verged on being a disaster area. The severely injured were stowed away behind curtains, and the more fortunate and superficially wounded took up space in the waiting room. All were frustrated, awaiting attention. Many were baffled by the delays, others were scared and angry.
Annoying reporters trolled for a story, and exhausted police officers deflecting questions, interviewed victims, getting their paperwork seen to. Frazzled nurses assisted overworked doctors, while lack of space and the dread of more aftershocks contributed to making everyone testy as hell. The smell of fear fought and won over the faint antiseptic odor most hospitals tried to hide.
In the midst of the turmoil, Lee asked, “Who first, Coralee, or Joe?”
“It doesn’t matter, you chose.”
He nodded and then guided Angelina’s blanket-wrapped figure to the desk where the nurse recognized him and extended preferential treatment.
“Hey, Lee. What’s up? We have your handsome partner in cubicle four, and he’s giving us a hard time.” The blonde nurse was middle aged, heavily made-up and slightly chubby. Her tired smile and cheeky facial expressions signaled she was joking.
“Hi, Christy. I’m not surprised. I bet you girls are scaring the hell outta him.”
“Right! He’s so terrified; he’s already put his moves on two of my young nurses.”
“He’s my man! Can we go in and say hello?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t encourage him to leave. He took a walloping, and his back is badly bruised.”
“You girls just want to keep him here for your own nefarious purposes. Maybe I should stay with him to protect the poor lad.” Lee’s wink took the sting out of his words.
They arrived at Joe’s cubicle, just in time to see a gushing, dark-haired nurse full of saccharin sweetness eyeing him hungrily while chatting him up. Her nametag, strategically placed to draw one’s attention to her protruding breasts, read Gail Berg. She had riveting brown eyes, decorated with smudged purple eye shadow, and thickly-applied mascara on overly-long, curly eyelashes. They fluttered like moths caught under a lampshade.
A movement behind Gail caught Angelina’s attention. She spotted Joe peeking around the nurse’s well-endowed body. He saw Angelina and his face froze. Red stains surged over his cheeks. As chatty Gail turned to leave, Joe noticed Lee. Comically, instant relief appeared on his face.
Gail stopped at the curtain. “Behave yourself, you rascal. If I catch you trying to get up again, I’ll have to use restraints. Come to think of it—that might be fun.” She bestowed a come-on smile to Joe, and a less sparkling one to Lee. Angelina, she ignored altogether.
Angelina looked at Lee, the man whose arm supported her, and caught his grin. Instinctively, she grinned back.
Joe glared his annoyance her way and demanded, “What are you doing here? Good God, woman, after what you’ve been through, you should be home in bed.”
Angelina visibly stiffened.
Obviously, Lee didn’t like the tension that was spiraling between the other two. He intervened, smoothing troubled waters. “Joe, we wanted to make sure you were okay. We’ve come to see Angelina’s employee, Miss Becker, but when Christy told us you were right here, we decided to say hi and see how you were.”
~*~
Joe’s eyes never left the bedraggled woman in front of him. She was dead on her feet. Instantly, he tuned in on what prompted Lee’s attentive behavior. Her dainty frame looked pitiful inside the grey rescue blanket. He’d recognized her smallness during the rescue, but standing, she was so tiny, she looked like someone who needed to be taken care of. Then he remembered: her size obviously didn’t match her temperament.
She’d formed another untied braid with her abundant coal-black hair and it hung over her left shoulder, almost to her waist. Her dazzling sapphire-like eyes, diluted from weariness and ringed with a greyish tinge, looked too large for her strikingly beautiful face. Dried tear-tracks on her pallid cheeks enhanced her look of misery.
He felt something move inside, a kind of tenderness mixed together with a load of responsibility. He had the urge to pick her up and cradle her, soothe away the cares burdening her slumped shoulders. Pamper her like he did with his favorite baby niece. He fought the impulse with everything inside him that warned he was in dangerous territory.
“Go home, Angelina. Come back when you’re not weak on your feet, or better yet, call the hospital for information.” Maybe the commanding tone in his voice suppressed his feelings of inadequacy. Whatever. The only thing he knew was that it came out sounding a lot tougher than he’d intended.
“Gringo! Quit giving me orders. Who are you to tell me what to do?”
“I saved your life.”
“Ay caramba! It was I who saved you.” Her hands shot into the air.
He loved her accent.
“Children, please! Calm down. Don’t panic.” Lee repositioned Angelina’s blanket and, as any parent would protect a young one, he patted her shoulders. Joe saw Lee’s joking seemed to strike her as being funny because first she smiled, then erupted into giggles.
He looked at Lee, who shrugged.
“I appreciate your visit, but please–I’m asking you please–go home soon.” Joe’s voice was soft, coaxing. “When I get out of here tomorrow, I don’t want to have to come back to visit you after you collapse.”
He felt her look bore into him. Holding her gaze, he kept his face as innocent but caring as he could. She sighed deeply and then seemed to accept his advice.
“Okay, Joe. I promise I’ll only pop up for a minute to check on Coralee.”
“Don’t take any longer. Lee is exhausted. He’s had a couple of long, hard days.” He figured to play on her sympathies for his partner, and, hot damn, it worked like a charm.
Angelina turned to Lee with a horrified look on her face, her exclamation heartfelt. “Lee, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You must be beat. You leave now; I’ll take a taxi home. Really, I’m fine with that.”
Lee shot an angry glance at Joe, whose manipulation had backfired, but then he smiled at Angelina. “Sugar, I’m fine. I’ll just go and find out where they’ve put your friend, and I’ll be right back to get you.” She stiffened and glanced warily toward the bed. Joe watched as Lee patted her reassuringly, and then left before she could voice her obvious disagreement.
Surprised to find himself gritting his teeth, Joe dismissed the idea that Lee’s tender display had put his back up. He decided that what bugged him was that she seemed uncomfortable staying with him. “Angel... ”
“Please don’t call me that. I’m no Angel. Call me Angelina or Angie, everyone does. My papá is the only one who insists on calling me Angel.”
“How about the special man in your life? What does he call you?”
Suspiciously, she peered at him through half-closed eyelids. Her blanket flared out as she turned her back, heading to the curtain.
“Miss Serrano…” Prickly little thing.
“You need your rest. I’ll wait for Lee in the hallway. Take care, Joe.”
“Angelina,” he emphasized her name, “you get your sweet butt home soon. You hear me?” His voice followed her behind the barrier.
Chapter 10
During the rescue, Lee had concentrated most of his efforts in clearing the debris from the stairs, and coordinating the other volunteers. His brief glimpse of Miss Becker, Angelina’s assistant, had happened only as she’d been carried out on a s
tretcher to the waiting ambulance. He’d heard her joking with the guys and had chuckled at her high spirits.
Now, approaching her bedside with Angelina, there was no warning whatsoever. No indication that Cupid was busy tonight. And no way of knowing that the arrow would shoot straight and true, and reside in his unlocked heart.
Stunned, weak-kneed, floored, were appropriate adjectives he’d use later to describe his feelings to Joe. From the very first glance, she became his one and only. It happened that fast. Like a twinkle of a star on a warm summer’s night. He wanted her. Forever!
How the hell was he going to share this realization with her and convince her he meant it? He’d need fancy words to explain how he felt.
I’m so screwed!
His second look confirmed his plight. Even though the woman was a mess of cuts and scrapes, he still wanted her. Black and purple bruises indicated she was in a lot of discomfort, and he instantly experienced phantom pains.
Her eyes looked bruised. The unequal pupil size marked the probability of concussion, and their big brown softness indicated a kind soul.
While Angelina scooped her friend into a gentle, teary hug, Lee, still quivering from shock, lowered himself onto the one available chair hidden in a deep recess in the darkened corner.
“Coralee, what did the doctors say? God, I’m so glad you’re not badly injured.” Angelina spoke in a shaky voice, obviously reassured that Coralee was indeed in one piece.
“Angelina, what are you doing here? For heaven's sake, you should be looking after yourself, you goofball.” Though her words were chastising, Coralee’s battered face lit up like a touch lamp after getting swatted.