Queenpin Of Wales

Chapter 12

⚠️TW⚠️ (Graphic depictions of violence and forms of torture. Depictions drug use also. This chapter is somewhat darker than my chapters I've written.)

Catherine's Pov

It's always the same when I come home. Calls, after calls. My phone I use out of the country is a burner at this point. My real phone was at home. Bowen was my second command, he took over while I was away.

"Catherine, Croeso adref! How's Miss Myla?" Bowen stood at the doorframe of my bathroom. I hid behind the divider drying myself off after my shower. "Missing me, as per usual. How much blow did we deliver to Colombia?" My hair was wrapped in a heavy towel as I pulled my arms through a white button-down shirt. "100 kilos. They wired us the 5 mill already." Bowen wasn't Welsh, he was Irish but, we taught him some Welsh. I found him when I was in Dublin 10 years ago, he was a new MMA fighter at the time. Though with his gambling debts after his wins, it crippled his career drastically. I came in and cleared it up. All he had to do was work for me. "Good. What about Suzuki? Is he shipping those Glocks yet? Rhys and Caden are going to Italy next week, they need more arms." I bent my neck down. Unravelling my towel on my hair. I fluffed my hair noticing I needed a root touch-up in the worst way.

"Well, about that love..." Bowen adjusted the collar of his suit. "What is it now Bo?" A sigh left me as I got all the blood returned to my head. I slouched my hair into a bun tying it up in a silk gold rag. "I'm not even fully comfortable at home and you're bringing me bad news?" I applied undereye cream with my ring finger.

"It's major Cath, we had a little issue from Warshac." He huffed. My button-down was too big to wear with any outfit. So I just wore it as a dress around the house. Maybe I should have worn a white bra and panties. Not black. "What the fuck do you mean?! I leave for 4 goddamn days and we're having issues with the Russians! What for now?"

"Well, Flynn and I got a call from one of our Russian ops that one of our guys was trafficking two young girls under your name. We had to bring them back to the UK before they landed in Moscow. We had to pay Victor Warshac 45 thousand. It was a heavy blow to business."

"Who. The fuck. Is. Responsible?" I slammed my moisturizer on the bathroom sink. "We believe it was Rhys. We looked at the guys' bank statements. Most of his money is going to alimony to his first wife. You know he's a heavy partier. We think he sold those 2, 11-year-old girls to cater to his party habits."

"They were fucking 11! Are you serious? What the fuck was Rhys thinking!" As soon as Bowen said 11-year-old girls I almost broke. All I could think of was Kelly. Myla's little sister. That could have been her. A friend of hers. Rhys broke my rules. I will break every bone in his body. "Men get pretty desperate Catherine. You know that."

"Oh, I'm well aware. We'll have to teach Rhys stupid games get stupid prizes. Leave me alone for a bit. I'll think of ways to handle that dumbass." We both exited my bathroom and entered my walk-in closet. "Don't you think you need to you know, be clear-headed to make those types of decisions boss?" Bowen trailed on as I was preoccupied with going through my drawers. "Bowen? Who runs this shit? Who's your boss? I think I can handle it. I've been pretty good these past months. I haven't done it in a while. Ever since I met Myla. I don't want her to find out about my nasty habits. So leave for a bit." Bowen shook his head heading out of the room.

My coke habit began after my parents died. I wasn't major. I wasn't pushing 50k up my nose like my brothers were. I would have one pump or two a week until my brother Trystan got caught laundering money into the States. He got locked up on trumped charges that made him serve life in prison. That's when I took over. He was next in line to take my father's place at the table when his duty could not be fulfilled, I had to step up. His wife divorced him and moved back to the States leaving a 2-year-old Flynn behind with me here in Cardiff. I raised Flynn on my own with help from his father in prison. I felt as though I needed this. I needed one little hit before I started knocking heads.