In Bed With Lord Byron

standing at a bus stop and someone so much as lit up a cigarette.
    I felt my whole body coil up inside as Anthony lent down and snorted. Then he sat back, wiping his nose, a zing on his face.
    ‘It seems to be the real thing,’ he said with a smile.
    Capone clapped his hands.
    ‘I like you,’ he said. ‘I like this guy.’ And then he picked up his gun and fired.
    Straight at Anthony.
    I let out a scream.
    Capone laughed.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, waving his hand. ‘There were no bullets in it!’ He glanced at Anthony, who was still clutching his chest in shock, and grinned. I think the
stupid bastard was rather proud to have succeeded in penetrating Anthony’s cool.
    ‘Speak to Ralph and he’ll sort you out with a little job we’re doing tomorrow. Now – I think it’s time to take Lucy for a spin.’
    He tipped me off his lap, stood up, grabbed my arm and led me from the table. I kept glancing back in shock, wishing I could shove Capone away and run to Anthony. He looked horrified that I was
going off on my own. We’d sworn that we wouldn’t separate, and now it was impossible not to.
    I knew this whole thing was a mistake, I thought. Oh God – we’re already in so deep – how are we going to get out?
    Capone’s car was impressive. It was black and shiny as patent leather. He opened a door and I slid in. The smell inside was very distinctive. Cigar smoke. Cloth.
Expensive leather. And danger. I had to admit it – I liked fast cars.
    Capone got in on the other side. He put his hand on my knee, and I felt a flicker pulse through me – more fear than desire. Capone was rather like a black panther – entertaining to
observe from a distance, but terrifying to be put into a cage with. I had no idea where we were going, but I had some idea of what he wanted from me, and I felt queasy and panicky at the
thought.
    Capone fired up the engine and we set off. The streets were relatively empty and Capone put his foot down. I watched the accelerator needle creep up to forty. He put his hand back on my
knee.
    ‘This speed OK for you, darlin’? I’m not scaring you, am I?’
    I feigned a nervy-damsel look and he grinned.
    ‘We’ll see if she can go a little faster.’
    I had to turn away to bite back my laughter. Probably 1920s cars would explode if they hit sixty – cars in this age were still a novelty. Perhaps in the year 3000, I mused, they’ll
all be driving at 200 m.p.h. and will laugh at us for our limits.
    As we pulled up at some lights, I noticed a black car behind us – it had been on our tail all the way. I wondered if we were being followed. If I was a gangster, I mused, I wouldn’t
last five minutes. I’d be constantly worried people were out to kill me. But Capone was completely relaxed, absorbed in his toy. I had thought he was a cool guy; now I realised that he simply
lacked the heart and morals of a normal human being.
    Unlike Anthony. Anthony had morals, I thought, but he could also be cool. I still couldn’t get over how brilliant he had been back in the saloon.
    The speedometer hit fifty. I feigned excitement – anything to avoid stopping.
    Unfortunately, Capone had other ideas. He brought the car to a halt. The view – downtown Chicago – was hardly picturesque, but then, I thought with a weary sigh, this was Sin City,
not the Lake District.
    ‘Lucy,’ Capone crooned thickly, leaning in, ‘the moment I saw you in the saloon in that dress, I knew I had to have you.’
    Have you.
As though I was a possession, a car he wanted to own.
    I tried to duck my head, but he caught my chin between a fleshy thumb and forefinger. Before I could protest, his mouth was on mine. I kept my eyes open and stared at his face, at his scars and
chubby cheeks; he was so close I could see the pores in his skin, and I felt a shudder of revulsion. He mistook it for desire and gripped my hair tightly, pulling me in, his tongue forcing its way
between my lips like a writhing eel.
    I tried to pretend he was Anthony. It worked for about thirty seconds. Anthony would
never
try to shove his hand up my skirt in such a hamfisted manner.
    I began to panic. I had a feeling that the usual sort of excuses weren’t going to save me; that he would force me anyway. My eyes wandered around the car. I wondered if there was a gun in
the glove compartment.
    Oh God, I thought, what am I going to do?
    Suddenly we were interrupted by a sharp rap on the windscreen.
    A police officer. Oh, thank