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Asher nodded. “Giselle will be furious.”
But just at that moment, Giselle bounded to center stage right as the moon jolted down another several inches. This time, even parts of the crowd reacted with gasps splintered among the cheers. Blaze and Asher looked fiercely at one another, knowing what they had to do.
Oblivious to the danger hanging over her head, Giselle sang passionately into the mic, “I may not be the kind of girl you take home to your mother—”
And then there was a sickening crack as the crescent moon broke from its ropes and came clattering toward the middle of the stage. Giselle gasped as the wind was knocked out of her chest—not by the falling prop, but by Asher’s arms tackling her to the floor several feet away. He spread around her protectively, and she tucked into him as they rolled together. The moon had crashed into center stage, precisely where Giselle had been standing just a second ago.
“Go, go, go!” shouted Blaze, who was darting their way as the crowd went feral.
There were screams and gasps of horror, as well as a stampeding horde of concerned fans attempting to flood the stage. Security guards broke into the audience to try and hold back the waves, but Asher wasn’t taking any chances.
“What the hell?” Giselle panicked.
Asher gathered her in his arms and scooped her over his shoulder. He was hot on Blaze’s trail as they booked it offstage and down the back entrance. The crowd was clamoring, shouting, climbing up the stage while Matt and Jimmy joined the security guards to control the Theater. Meanwhile, Asher had only one thought in his head: get Giselle out of danger.
As far as he was concerned, that meant getting the hell out of Griffith Park. There were too many people and not enough security. Asher had been behind the scenes of the industry long enough to know how quickly a situation could escalate.
“Where are you taking me?” Giselle demanded, beating uselessly on Asher’s powerful shoulders. “I have to finish the show!”
“Like hell you do,” Asher growled. He ran full-tilt down the street to the parking area, where his Cadillac was waiting.
“Are you kidnapping me?” she spluttered.
“I’m removing you from the situation.” He gently tipped her into the passenger seat.
“Where are you going?” Blaze shouted as he ran to his motorcycle parked down the way.
“Taking her home,” he directed. “Follow if you want.”
With that, he slid behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and peeled out down the road with Giselle panting in the passenger seat. Just as he feared, there was a barrage of fans, paparazzi, and concerned crew members flooding to their cars. It wasn’t long before traffic began to back up, but Asher wasn’t taking any chances.
“Seatbelt,” he barked at Giselle.
She clicked it, eyes wide.
“Good girl,” Asher said. “Now, hold on.”
He put his foot flat down on the gas pedal, dropped the gear into third, shifted, and the vintage car jerked forward with a powerful roar. Giselle clutched at the seat with a squeak of terror as Asher piloted the massive old car through the thickening traffic. Asher focused all of his observational skills on the road, on the obstacles appearing left and right. Again and again, he faced near collisions on all sides, but he expertly wove the boat-like car through the masses and out onto a clear stretch of highway. He built up speed, ignoring the posted limits to power through intersections and elegantly glide down an exit ramp for quieter roads toward Silver Lake. Once he was certain they had escaped the scene, he slowed down.
Giselle let out a long-held sigh.
“Holy shit!” she burst, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “What just happened? I was onstage, and then there was this loud crack, and then you were there, and now I’m in your car?”
“Your crescent moon prop came loose and fell on the stage,” he explained. “I don’t know if it was an accident, or—”
“Whatever happened was definitely an accident,” Giselle interrupted fiercely. “Nobody on my crew would risk the show like that. Or my life.”
“I’m not making accusations, Giselle,” he said.
“How did you know it was going to fall, anyway?” she questioned, a little suspicious.
“It sort of happened in slow motion,” he said. “I just acted on impulse.”
“Your impulse was to tackle me and throw me over your shoulder?” she asked.
Asher’s jaw tightened. “My impulse was to get you out of harm’s way.”
“Oh god, they’re going to be looking for me everywhere,” she said, holding her glittery face in her hands. “My fans must be freaking out.”
