Page 41 of Romancing the Rumrunner
Jessie laughed and Tony realized that he’d never heard her laugh before. A few chuckles here and there, but not this full-bellied, carefree laughter. The sound of it warmed its way through him like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds. He liked the sound of it, liked the way her face lit up, how her eyes shone like two bright little sapphires. He smiled back at her.
“No,” she said, still laughing. “No, the first of every month I bring meat down to the orphanage. It takes a while to carve up, though. I usually do it the night before, but I was singing at your club last night so I didn’t have time to get it all done.”
“So you closed your shop on a Saturday?”
Jessie shrugged and wiped an arm across her brow before slinging another slab of meat onto her butcher block. “No helping it. Charlie is out making deliveries all day. We’ll lose some profits, but it’s just one day. And the children need the meat. They don’t always get much in the way of fresh meat and produce.”
Tony stared at her, once again surprised. Whatever her reasons for being mixed up with the likes of the Phoenix, he didn’t think it had anything to do with money. Saturdays were probably her busiest days. She stood to lose a lot by closing it down, yet it didn’t seem to bother her. Either she had enough in the bank that losing a whole day of profits just didn’t matter…or she really didn’t care.
“Could you bring me that tray over there?” she asked.
He grabbed the one she’d indicated and set it beside her on the block. She started stacking the cuts on the tray.
“You do this every month?”
“Yes. I try to get out there twice a month, if I can. Even with refrigeration, the meat will spoil if I bring too much at once.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
Jessie shrugged. “For as long as I can remember. My father started the tradition.”
“And you’ve kept it going now that he’s gone.”
Jessie shifted, still talking but her easygoing manner had disappeared.
“The children need it. And it’s the least I can do. It’s how we met.”
A faint smile touched her lips and Tony’s heart stopped, pieces starting to fall into place. “You lived at the orphanage?”
Jessie paused and took a deep breath. “Yes.” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, that small smile trembling on her lips. “My mother left me there when I was six years old.”
“Jessie…” he said, his heart twisting at the thought of what she’d been through.
She shrugged and went back to carving. “My dad found me, adopted me. And I couldn’t have asked for a better father.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she cleared her throat. “Anyway, Joe usually helps me but he’s not feeling very well today.”
“So you’re down here all alone.”
“There isn’t anyone else.” She slapped another steak on the pile.
Tony wanted to ask where the Phoenix was, why the man she was risking everything for couldn’t lend her a hand. But he supposed a man like the Phoenix wouldn’t bother spending his time on manual labor. If there even was a Phoenix.
The thought had been niggling at him. Jessie never mentioned him, never acted as though she had a lover who might have a care for her thoughts or actions. No one had ever seen him. Or at least the Feds hadn’t found anyone willing to admit ever seeing him. The man was a ghost. Which didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t real. Plenty of criminals were good at covering their tracks and staying out of the limelight.
But if there wasn’t a Phoenix, then who was running the operation? Who was really behind The Red Phoenix? It couldn’t be Willie…he was too interested in the Phoenix himself for him to already be involved with it. So who was it?
Tony took a closer look at Jessie, for the first time wondering ifshewas behind it all. It was unthinkable, unbelievable. Not impossible. But still…
“Besides, I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to relax,” Jessie said, breaking into his thoughts.
Tony laughed. “This is your idea of relaxing?”
Jessie smiled up at him and the ache in his heart eased a little. “It’s repetitive, doesn’t require a lot of thought. It’s quiet down here. And I enjoy the work.”
She brought the knife down with a thwack.
“I can see that.” Tony watched her carefully. She was handy with that knife. Yes, she was referencing it in terms of her job. But she could probably be very lethal, if she chose to be.
“Well,” he said, pushing those thoughts aside. He had no proof Jessie was a bootlegger, or a rumrunner, and if she was, she wasn’t doing it on her own, and she certainly wasn’t some knife-wielding crazy. He grabbed an apron off a hook by the door and draped it over his neck. “What can I do to help?”
