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cloaked herself at the guard gate and watched vehicle after vehicle come and go, unable to decide whether to follow one in or out. When a prison van loaded with men left the premises, she’d taken a chance and jumped on the bumper as it drove out to the main road. From there, she got into her car and followed a safe distance behind. After trekking several miles into the forest to where they were working, she’d nearly lost it when she spotted Vince. He’d gotten taller and had filled out so much that she almost hadn’t recognized him.
    After ten years of imagining Vince as the boy he had been, it was hard to reconcile her memory of a charming, sweet-natured boy with that of a hotter-than-hell, heavily muscled, tattooed man. And then to speak with him… It had taken every ounce of effort she had to keep herself cloaked and not throw herself into his arms.
    Vince finally reached the flowers, and she gave a low whistle. When their eyes met, her heart stuttered in her chest. He was bearded now with chin-length, reddish-brown hair, the same shade as his twin sister’s. Although there was a hardness about him that hadn't been there when they were teens, his eyes were still the same. Framed by dark brows and fringed with thick lashes, they were intense, unwavering, brave.
    He gave her a nod. He was ready.
    Her hands shook as she pulled the comm device from her pocket and tapped the transmit button three times. Almost immediately, she received a reply of three taps in return. Asher had gotten the message. This was it. She motioned for Vince to approach.
    With a hand on his stomach, he shuffled off the tracks as if he were in great pain and needed to relieve himself. The diarrhea ruse never failed, she thought wryly.
    Almost immediately, a loud explosion behind the prisoners nearly jolted her out of her skin. Vince dove into the trees as if he’d been blown off his feet. If Palmer or any of the men happened to catch a glimpse of him, they’d assume he’d merely been reacting to the explosion.
    Gripping the bolt cutters, she ran to him. He withdrew something from his pocket and flicked it into the bushes. They had to work quickly. No time for small talk. Without a word, she caught a link of chain between the blades and squeezed the handles.
    “Damn,” she said through clenched teeth.
    Vince’s hands were rough and warm over hers. He exerted more pressure, and the links snapped like they were twigs. Before she could shift the bolt cutter to the steel cuff around his ankle, he lifted her to her feet. He smelled of dirt, sweat and raw man, and a thrill of adrenaline raced through her veins.
    He stared at her with dark, inquiring eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Who are you?”
    Unease flared in her gut.
    Sure, she’d changed since the last time he’d seen her—cut her hair, gained a few pounds. Did he really not recognize her? Was he…disappointed?
    Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her face between his callused hands and his mouth crashed over hers, stealing her breath away. His body was hard against hers. He tasted salty and wild, his beard scratchy against her face. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and melt into him. But then he released her so quickly that, at first, she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. Except that her lips felt slightly bruised.
    “Come on,” he growled, jerking her into the underbrush.
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    Z ara was more beautiful that he remembered, Vince thought as they dashed through the forest, their progress hindered by the heavy undergrowth. She wore her hair in one thick, dark braid that flicked him in the arm whenever she glanced behind them. He was surprised by the determination and focus reflected in those hauntingly gorgeous gray eyes of hers. In his memories, she’d always been so carefree and free-spirited.
    Her braid hit his arm again, and he gripped her hand tighter. Behind them, the barking was getting progressively louder.
    Glancing