A wave of nausea hit Mikki like a punch to the gut. She breathed in deeply through her nose, attempting to ease the tightening pain in her chest.
"You don't look so good, gal," Peter said, taking another swig from his steel flask. He sat across from her and Steve, a silver pistol resting on his thigh, the source of Mikki's dread. "Serves you right for kickin' me off the show." He reeked of alcohol.
"She needs a doctor, Peter," Steve said, his arm cradling her shoulders. "She's having a panic attack."
Peter aimed the pistol at Steve's chest and Mikki bit her lip to keep from crying out. "How would you know? You a doctor now, Cassanova?"
"You don't need the gun," Mikki said. "We can talk without it."
Peter chuckled. "Talk? You said plenty before security hauled me off like some criminal. I lost my job because of you. Way I figure it, you owe me."
Mikki could feel the walls closing in on her. How had Peter slipped past security? Wouldn't they know not to let this maniac back on the set?
"What do you want from us?" Steve remained calm enough for the both of them. The sound of
us
on his lips comforted her. They were in this together.
"If you don't want me to reconsider lettin' you live, then you best keep your mouth shut. This is between me and the lady."
Bile rose at the back of Mikki's throat. Maybe if she'd realized sooner who Peter really was, she could have eliminated him the first night and avoided all of this. "Let him go and we can talk," she heard herself say, shocked by this sudden burst of courage.
"Mikki," Steve said in the tone of a grade school teacher giving her a warning.
She reached out her shaky hand, giving his forearm a light squeeze. "I'll be fine, he won't hurt me."
"How can you be so sure?" Peter asked with a sloppy grin.
"Because you care about me," she said with a straight face. Odd as it was, she knew it was true.
In her initial interactions with Peter, she'd honed in on the insecurity beneath the bravado, which had surprisingly endeared him to her. Her father was the same kind of man - tough as nails on the outside, soft as a marshmallow on the inside. His sense of humor and uncanny gentleness with her was the reason he'd made it so far on the show.
But Peter's drinking had twisted his insecurity into something darker. She was sure this whole incident was fueled by the hard liquor burning through his system. She had to use whatever she had at her disposal to talk him down and that amounted to his feelings for her. Steve's presence would only interfere with her plan.
"Let Steve go and I'm all yours," Mikki said, her smile shaky.
Peter squinted his eyes, considering her proposal. "As you wish."
"No," Steve said with force. "I'm not leaving you."
Mikki turned him to face her, projecting a confidence she didn't feel. "I need to handle this alone." It had all become clear. This was her chance to get things right the second time around.
The last time she'd been held hostage, a woman had died and she hadn't been able to forgive herself. She refused to have Steve's blood on her hands.
Steve moved to speak and she silenced him with a kiss. It felt like ages since she'd felt those soft lips on her own. More than anything, she wanted to become familiar with those lips again, to taste and suck and massage his mouth with her tongue. For now, she just wanted him to do as she asked.
Mikki pulled away, searching for the surrender she needed from him.
Steve pulled his lips into a thin line and she thought he might refuse. He nodded tightly. "Five minutes and then I'm coming back for you."
Mikki almost changed her mind at the look of hesitation in his eyes. "Agreed."
"Time's a wastin'," Peter said, twirling his pistol in the direction of the door.
"Five minutes," Steve addressed Mikki.
She smiled and nodded, her gut twisting as she she watched him go.
"I'm impressed," Peter said. "I thought you'd be shakin' in your four inch heels by now."
"There are better ways to get my attention," Mikki said. The outrage she felt at being held at gunpoint helped her cut through some of the fear.
"This way's a lot more fun." Peter lay the pistol on his lap and took another sip of his drink.
"Can I have some of that?" Mikki nodded to his flask.
He smiled before handing it over. She tilted her head back and took a deep swig. The alcohol burned her throat, unleashing a round of painful coughs.
Peter laughed, taking the flask back. "Moonshine. Made it myself."
Mikki felt lightheaded, from the coughing or liquid fire, she couldn't tell. "Did someone put you up to this?" Their five minutes would be up soon and she hated to think what might happen if Steve returned.
Peter smirked. "I might've had some help."
"Who?"
"Uh uh, Counselor. I ask the questions."
Mikki nodded, surrendering the floor to the man holding the gun.
"How did it feel playing us, while you were bumping uglies with Steve?"
She sighed, deciding to go with honesty. "It wasn't my intention to start anything with Steve. It just happened."
"He gonna marry you?"
Leave it to Peter to ask her the very question she'd been afraid to ask herself. "I don't know."
"So you kept everyone else on the back burner. Just in case?" Peter laughed in disgust. "We never had a chance, did we?"
Mikki doubted Peter's feelings ran that deep for her. Something else was going on. "This is about your brother, isn't it? Damon."
That surprised him. "That brat never could keep his mouth shut."
