Chapter 10Though he had been in Vegas long enough to know the ropes, every time Edmund hit the Strip, that first surge of excitement made him feel like a kid locked overnight in Willy Wonka’s factory. Bodies of every shape and size filled the candy-colored rooms, sometimes pressed together so tightly their scents were indiscernible. Rhythms like tribal drums tattooed against his flesh, hearts and lungs and soft, pliant veins all contributing their cadences until it was hard to tell where they ended and he began. No matter what his intention, Edmund always felt like a predator prowling through the casinos. From the looks he got from more than one security guard, he looked like one, too.
He navigated through the Bellagio’s lobby, ignoring the hand-blown glass flowers that adorned its ceilin
