Ch.4

2 Years Later

Charlotte watched Mac mix chemicals to create the disgusting drug Walter distributed. Rick was packaging the finished product, alternating between stacking the bricks in a pyramid formation and taking a puff of a joint he'd pulled from some hiding spot the boys hadn't told her about. She was fascinated by the way Mac moved; muscles bunching and flexing, brow furrowed and jaw clenched with a tic forming. He lifted the industrial sized paint thinner canister to mix in the beaker already filled with equal portions of battery acid and Benzene. She'd learned all the ingredients from Mac and Rick. When they were feeling unusually friendly, they would let her stand with them at the work table. Rick even let her help package sometimes while Mac pointed out all the different containers and their uses.

"Hold your bandana down for a second," Rick ordered, Charlotte didn't hesitate to do what he said even though her oldest half-brother didn't even have his gas mask on. She hated this part, the smell was horrific and even when she shifted farther against the wall on her mattress she couldn't escape it. She couldn't imagine how Rick could just stand there, puffing his joint, like nothing was wrong. She always felt a little dizzy afterward. Mac and Rick backed up from the table, letting the heaviest of the fumes waft away. She counted to one-hundred and twenty in her head before either man stepped back up to the table. Charlotte slid off her mattress, walking around the worktable to stand next to Mac.

"Can we go now? It's nearly dark and I want to go home." Mac shook his head at her whining, not looking up from his work. Two years had given the pair time to grow on the other and this act had become routine.

Charlotte huffed at him, shoving her hand in his back pocket to retrieve the lighter he kept there. "You have ten minutes, Mac," she snapped, reaching with her other hand to pull out a joint-not as strong as Rick's, but something Mac had concocted just for her-he kept in his breast pocket. "Ten, Mac, I mean it. I'll leave your ass here," her threat was empty, because she left his keys where they were on the table, but her brandishing the lighter at him made him chuckle.

"Whatever, bitch." His hand snapped out, slapping her jean covered ass as she turned.

"Bastard," she yelped, growling unthreateningly around her joint. She got to the tunnel before she lit it, knowing that if she tried to do so while she was too close, she could potentially blow them all sky high. And wouldn't that just piss Walter the hell off? Mac's chuckle followed her into the tunnel, to which she flipped him the bird before she disappeared into the darkness.

Twenty-five minutes later her brothers ambled out of the cave, whooping loudly with beer bottles in their hands. Charlotte had pushed the bandana up into her hair and huddled in the bed of Mac's truck, wrapped tightly in Mac's shirt. As the boys came closer, she leveled her glare on the pair of them.

"Ten fucking minutes, Mac," she growled, through chattering teeth, from her burrow. Mac grinned slyly, rocking his beer in her face.

"Rick and I decided to celebrate a good day's work." Charlotte slid out of the truck bed, smacking her brother's chest.

"Bullshit, you…you're…" unable to find insulting enough words, Charlotte let out a short scream of frustration. Rick stepped forward, watching the heat cloud his little brother's eyes. A sign Rick had learned long ago meant that Charlotte was in for a little discipline. He knew Mac wouldn't go too far with the girl, he liked his toys in pristine condition, but Rick couldn't help but feel he needed to help the girl a little. Clapping his brother on the shoulder as Charlotte pushed past them, heading toward the passenger side of the truck, Rick left his brother a reminder.

"Take care of her," the eldest began, nodding his head at her back, "No marks, don't want Walter to know you're breakin his rules." Mac nodded and with that, Rick walked off to his own truck, driving off.

"Mac unlock the door, I'm fucking cold!" Charlotte jerked on the door handle, glaring at him. He shook his head. Charlotte could see now what Rick had. His normally light blue eyes were turning darker. Fuck.

"C'mere," Mac ordered. She had the decency to look a little nervous, watching his finger curl in a come-hither gesture. "Now, Lottie." The voice in the back of her mind told her going to him would be detrimental, but her feet moved on their own, mind knowing that not going to him would be worse. Closing the distance between them, she stopped an arms-length away, but it wasn't far enough. Mac's hand shot out, like a snake striking, and clamped down on her small wrists. He dragged her forward into his chest and then shoved her back into the truck bed roughly. Her body jerked a little against the metal bed, her breasts bouncing slightly. In the last two years, her budding form had surged forward into lithe curves with just the right amount of softness in her chest, ass and thighs. The way she struggled now just reminded him how good she looked dressed in so little.

Charlotte kicked out her legs, aiming blindly for some part of him. Mac lifted her upper body by her wrist and slammed her back against the metal bed. She cried out and he drank up the sound like it was a drug. All her fight was making him hard, even more when she pulled her wrists up to get his arm level with her mouth, her blunt little teeth sank into his arm. Mac groaned, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"You're makin me love you," he commented, using his free hand to spread her legs to make room for him. Charlotte whined, arching her stinging back from the cold metal. "Just a few more days and you're mine," he continued, smiling lewdly, "you know what I'm gonna do to you when that day comes?" Charlotte was done playing this game, his falsetto angry dominance routine was just making her wet and anxious; her legs came up, locking around his hips. She smiled up at him, a hint of innocence playing in the blue depths.

"Doesn't matter, I've always been yours," her hips came up, grinding smoothly against her brother's. Mac moved his lips from her cheek, down her jaw to the long column of her throat. His teeth sank down into her young flesh, leaving teeth marks but not drawing blood.

"Damn right," he growled, drawing his tongue along the bite marks. He lifted off of her when she tried to rock her hips against his again, smirking down at her. Charlotte keened, but didn't fight him. Just like she knew she was his, she knew that he was in charge of her pleasure. If she wanted something, she'd have to ask real nice and wait for him to give her permission or grant it himself. "Get in the truck." Charlotte slid to the edge of the truck bed, pecking her brother on the lips once before she jumped down, scurrying to the passenger side with the keys Mac had slipped into her hand. The truck jerked forward when Mac closed the hatch as she started the vehicle and unlocked his door. She kept herself cuddled into his side as they drove home; her legs thrown over his lap, head resting on his shoulder, one hand over her stomach and the other using long fingers to stroke his throat, arm and chest.