BAITED BREATH

Baited Breath Part 1

Bree dashed the last few steps out of the shadowed alley onto a crowded sidewalk. Common sense overrode her gutsy determination as heavy footsteps drew near. She sighed with relief at the sight of skateboarders ignoring prominently posted signs and young mothers pushing jogging strollers down the sunlit walkway. Thudding boots on the pavement behind her accelerated until the man shadowing her also erupted onto the sidewalk beside her. The odors and flavor of corruption clinging to the man had offended her senses for the last three blocks.

Bree forced a smile and lowered her gaze to the suspicious frown on the man's pockmarked face. "Hello." She cleared her throat to remove the nervous quaver. "Are you interested in the new homeless shelter?" She offered him one of the leaflets she'd been distributing in a homeless camp. Stepping into the flow of foot traffic, she raised her chin in a 'come with me' gesture.

The stocky man dressed in worn biker leathers squinted up and down the sidewalk as if wondering if passersby noticed the tall blond girl. "Do you have a death wish? It's a wonder you weren't robbed or murdered back there." He gestured back down the alley and tossed the flyer into the breeze. "What good is a shelter to these people, princess? Are they supposed to walk on water across the Mississippi to the arch? East St. Louis is a little short on charity. So take your cute do-gooder butt back to the 'burbs where it's safe to walk around alone."

Her nose twitched. The lemon-lime air around him smelled cocky, assured, brazen. She fell into line behind two grandmotherly-looking women pulling collapsible shopping carts. He followed, leering at her tight pants and long legs.

"Isn't that just a stereotype about poor people being dangerous?" Bree countered. "I'm not afraid."

"Just stupid. If I hadn't been trailing behind you, giving a couple of those guys the eye, you'd be a headline in tonight's news."

Bree shuddered and glanced over her shoulder at him. "In that case, thank you. Do you have a minute to answer a couple of questions?"

He shrugged and stood taller.

"Depends what they are." He stepped up beside her.

"I'm Cindy." Bree juggled the papers and offered her alias and her free hand.

He ignored her hand and snickered, "People call me Monster, as in wanna see my ...," he leaned closer and whispered something indecent.

Bree wrinkled her nose in disgust as his scent changed and silently thanked her father for the warning about some men's offensive behavior.

"But you can call me Dick," he smirked.

"What an interesting name." She pretended to write it on one of the flyers. "Truth is, I'm looking for a man."

He puffed his chest out and pulled his do-rag farther down on his broad forehead. "You found one."

She stopped in front of a barbecue restaurant, and pedestrians broke around them like the ocean current against an iceberg. She tasted brown sugar and red pepper in the air. "I apologize. It was a particular man, although you seem like a fine specimen."

"Specimen?" He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders forward as a crease appeared between his thick eyebrows. "Isn't that something you look at under a microscope?"

She ignored his body language, gave him a cheeky grin, and nudged him with her elbow. "You're educated. And I bet you know your way around the city. The guy I'm trying to find is called Jerusalem. I've heard he's kind of a big deal."

Bree smelled adrenaline-packed fear, panic, and suspicion at the mention of the name. Dick's wide-eyed gaze shot from side to side and back to the alley.