Chapter 9 Protective Influences
Nick Malone
The moment they stepped backstage, Nick’s instincts were on high alert. Celeste’s phone in his palm, the chilling message still displayed on the screen, made his grip tighten. They were here. Close enough to watch her, close enough to send a message in real-time.
That meant one thing.
Whoever was behind this wasn’t just lurking in the shadows anymore. They were making their move, up front and center.
Nick scanned the area with sharp precision, his posture rigid, every muscle wired with focus.
The fashion show’s energy had shifted—no longer just flashing cameras and murmured conversations, but something darker, something threading through the crowd like an unseen force.
The air itself felt heavier, charged with a presence he couldn’t yet see.
Beside him, Sabre’s entire body tensed. The Belgian Malinois, moments ago the star of the runway, had switched into full tactical mode.
His ears twitched at every distant noise, his intelligent gaze sweeping the perimeter.
The second his paws hit the edge of the backstage area, he let out a low, barely audible rumble in his throat—a sound only Nick recognized as his first alert.
Something wasn’t right.
Nick’s grip tightened on the leash, his fingers brushing the hidden holster beneath his jacket as he slowed his steps.
The venue’s security had done a decent job keeping unwanted guests out, but security measures only worked if the threat was external.
Nick had seen it a hundred times before—sometimes, the real danger was already inside.
Sabre’s nose lifted slightly, inhaling deep before his muscles coiled, his tail stiffening.
He jerked his head to the left, toward the cluster of staff members packing up behind the curtain-lined entrance to the VIP lounge.
There was no immediate cause for alarm, no screams or rushing footsteps, but Sabre had locked onto something—someone.
Nick followed his lead, eyes shooting across the dimly lit corners of the venue.
The bright runway lights cast deep shadows, illuminating some faces while leaving others obscured.
Staff members moved briskly, models laughed in clusters, and photographers reviewed their shots, but Nick saw the gaps. The blind spots.
Celeste stood a step behind him, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She wasn’t shaking, wasn’t panicking, but the tension rolled off her in waves.
“Nick?” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.
He didn’t take his eyes off the area Sabre had locked onto.
“Stay close,” he said, his voice low, controlled.
Sabre shifted again, his body language sharp, his trained senses tuned into something Nick hadn’t caught yet. And that was enough for him to trust the dog’s instincts over anything else.
Someone had been here. Someone who shouldn’t be.
Nick turned to her. “Stay close to me.”
Celeste opened her mouth to argue.
He cut her off with a look.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she relented, slipping to his side while Nick and Sabre took point.
***
Nick finished moving through the surrounding area, Sabre leading the way. The K-9’s movements were precise, his snout skimming the air for any trace of the scent he’d been trained to track.
Sabre traced the scent to just outside the venue. The streets were alive with movement—fashion show attendees spilling out of the venue, paparazzi lingering at the fringes, waiting for the next scandalous shot. But something about the energy of the crowd felt… off.
Nick’s gut twisted.
Someone had been watching Celeste from inside the event. Close enough to send that text at the exact moment she read it.
A nearby alleyway caught his eye. Narrow. Dark. Too close to the event to be random.
Nick crouched, lowering his voice to Sabre. “Seek.”
The command sent Sabre surging forward, his nose to the ground, his focus unshakable. He sniffed along the pavement, past a discarded cigarette, an abandoned cup—then suddenly, his head snapped up.
A low growl rumbled deep in his chest.
Nick’s muscles coiled. “What is it, buddy?”
Sabre’s gaze locked onto a shadowed spot near the alley’s edge. A figure—hooded, blending too well with the dark—had been standing there just seconds ago. Now, only the faintest scuff marks on the pavement hinted at their presence.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. They’d been watching. Close enough to get a clear shot of Celeste.
And close enough to disappear before Nick could get to them.
Grinding his teeth, Nick reached for his phone. “We need the security footage from this alley. Now.”
***
By the time they made it to the car, Celeste was scrolling through her phone, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctant amusement.
Nick frowned. “What?”
She turned the screen toward him. Dozens of headlines flooded social media.
"Runway Security: K-9 Bodyguard Steals the Show!"
"Move Over, Models—Sabre is the Real Star of the Night!"
"The Gold-Toothed Guardian: How One Dog Stole Fashion Week!"
Nick groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Celeste laughed under her breath, her tension easing just slightly. “Apparently, the lighting hit Sabre’s tooth just right when we walked the runway. Everyone saw it.”
Nick ran a hand down his face. “Now my damn dog’s a celebrity.”
Celeste smirked. “Well, he is the best-looking member of your security team.”
Sabre let out a contented chuff from the backseat, as if agreeing.
Nick shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. “Now I’m gonna have to deal with people asking about his damn tooth every time I take him out.”
Celeste tilted her head. “So? Tell me the story.”
Nick exhaled, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “We were tracking a suspect in Queens. Guy jumped a chain-link fence. Sabre didn’t even hesitate—just charged right through it.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Through it?”
“Straight through,” Nick confirmed. “Shattered his left K-9 tooth on impact. Had to get it replaced. A local Vet heard the story and offered to replace Sabre’s K-9 tooth for free.
Celeste shook her head, looking back at Sabre with newfound admiration. “And the Vet gave him gold?”
Nick’s smirk deepened. “Vet had a sense of humor. Said it made him look ‘badass.’”
Celeste reached back, scratching behind Sabre’s ear. “He is badass. And now he’s a fashion icon.”
Sabre let out an approving grunt, settling back in his seat.
Nick sighed. “Next thing I know, someone’s gonna try to put a damn diamond collar on him.”
Celeste bit her lip to hold back a laugh. “No promises.”
***
The moment they stepped inside Nick’s apartment, Celeste felt the exhaustion hit. The threats, the constant need to be on guard—it all came down on her at once.
Nick locked the door, setting the security system before turning to her. His observance was intense, assessing, like he was trying to decide if she was seconds from breaking.
She wasn’t.
But she was tired of pretending she didn’t need him.
Nick must’ve read the shift in her expression, because his shoulders tensed, his breath deepening. He didn’t move toward her, didn’t reach for her. But the air between them was thin.
Slowly, Celeste stepped closer.
She reached for his jacket, gripping the fabric, grounding herself.
“Nick.” Her voice was softer now. Not demanding. Just… honest.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
She didn’t know how to explain it—how much she needed to forget the world for just a little while. How much she needed him.
So, she didn’t use words.
She tugged him down to her, kissing him fiercely.
Nick didn’t hesitate.
His hands were on her in an instant, spanning her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, turned hungrier, more desperate.
Celeste moaned softly into his mouth, heat pooling low in her stomach. She wanted more. Needed more.
Behind them, Sabre chuffed loudly.
Nick broke the kiss, groaning. “Who asked for your opinion?”
Celeste laughed, breathless.
Sabre stretched, yawned, then—as if understanding the moment— casually trotted out of the room and plopped onto the couch.
Celeste blinked. “Did he just—?”
Nick smirked. “Yeah. I guess he knows when to give us privacy.”
Her heart thundered.
Nick’s fingers trailed up her spine, his gaze darkening. “So, where were we?”
Celeste shivered, pulling her body to his. “Right about here.”
Celeste kissed him with fire and intent, her nails digging into the back of his neck as she tilted his head just the way she wanted. She wasn’t asking. She was claiming. Her tongue slid against his, a slow, tantalizing tease before she bit down on his bottom lip, a silent demand for more.
Nick groaned, his hands instinctively gripping her hips, but Celeste wasn’t letting him dictate the pace. She pushed him backward, guiding him until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed.
"Sit," she commanded, her voice dark with need.
Nick's breath became heavier, his muscles tensed, but he obeyed. He dropped onto the mattress, his dark eyes burning into hers as she stood between his spread legs, hands moving to the buttons of her dress.
Celeste took her time. Slowly, deliberately, she unfastened each button, letting the silk fabric slide down her body, pooling at her feet. She stood before him in lace and smooth, golden skin, watching his eyes soak in her every curve.
“Fuck, Celeste,” he rasped, his hands reaching for her.
She caught his wrists and shook her head, a smirk curving her lips. "Not yet."
Nick’s pupils dilated, his body thrumming with tension, but he stayed still as she sank to her knees between his thighs. With slow, measured intent, she ran her hands up his legs, tracing the muscle beneath the fabric before reaching for his belt.
She unbuckled it, her fingers brushing against the thick bulge in his jeans and felt his entire body jerk in response. The need radiating off him was intoxicating. She loved it. Loved knowing she could unravel him with nothing more than a touch.
“You’re too dressed,” she murmured, popping the button of his jeans.