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Mark Haddonfield could feel eyes on him.

He’d sensed them earlier, in the courthouse holding area, but pretended not to notice. Now that he was on the prison bus returning him from the courthouse to Twin Towers Correctional Facility, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Despite the shackles that locked his arms against the seat in front of him, he twisted his head around to look at the person in the seat behind him. She stared back at him. There was a twinkle in Ash Pierce’s eyes.

“What?” he demanded.

“It’s just that we’ve been on this bus together multiple times and I thought that I should maybe introduce myself. My name is Ash.”

“I know who you are,” he said guardedly.

“And I know who you are,” she replied warmly. “Mark Haddonfield: the man responsible for a string of murders, all of them people originally saved by Jessie Hunt. I have to say, you really taught her a lesson. The way she treated you, you were entitled to do a hell of a lot more than that.”

“I did do more than that,” he said proudly. “Even from behind bars, I managed to have her best friend’s fiancé gunned down. I almost got her psychiatrist taken out too.”

“And yet, curiously, it seems like those attacks have waned of late,” Pierce said, tilting her head in mock intrigue. “I have to wonder why that is.”

He shrugged as much as his shackles would allow.

“I couldn’t tell you,” he replied, which was technically true. The deal—in which he called off his acolytes from pursuing Jessie Hunt’s loved ones in exchange for getting to work cases with her—was confidential. He wasn’t supposed to mention it to anyone, certainly not the woman who had tried to kill both Jessie’s sister and her best friend.

“Well,” she said slowly, almost reluctantly, “the old me, before the amnesia, would have probably congratulated you on snuffing out Kat Gentry’s fiancé. I supposedly wanted to kill her myself, and I suspect that eliminating her future husband probably caused her great pain. But that was the old me. The new me is just trying to get by as best I can.”

Mark had heard about Pierce’s memory loss. He didn’t know if it was legitimate or not, but he knew that she was using it as part of her defense against the charges she faced. He wished the idea had occurred to him.

“I wish you well with that,” he said cautiously. He sensed that despite being shackled on a prison bus with four armed guards nearby, she wasn’t someone to be trifled with, not even by someone with his track record.

"Thank you, Mark," she said. "May I call you Mark?"

“I guess,” he said.

“You know what occurs to me, Mark?” she continued.

“What?”

“Both of us are in a tight spot these days,” she told him. “If we’re convicted, and let’s be honest—that’s the likeliest outcome for both of us—then we’re going to spend the rest of our lives in cells less spacious than the ones we currently inhabit at Twin Towers. That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I’m trying to make my peace with it,” he said.

She leaned in slightly and lowered her voice.

“What if you didn’t have to?” she purred.

“What?”

“In my prior life, I was apparently pretty good at getting out of tight spots,” she said. “They tell me I did it in the military and later in the CIA. And though I don’t remember it, I’m on trial, at least in part, for killing four guards while escaping from a prison transport vehicle. So I guess those skills are there, even if I don’t have recall of them.”

“What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” she said, sounding slightly hurt at the accusation. “I’m just musing on the fact that I apparently have a skill set that could help the two of us change our unfortunate circumstances. And we both know that you have the craftiness, toughness, and unflinching will to do what needs to be done when the time is right. I just wonder what we could accomplish if we put our two skill sets together.”

The bus came to a stop at the entrance to Twin Towers. As the gate slowly creaked open, he thought about her non-proposal proposal. He had to admit that he was intrigued. This was the first time in forever that he had allowed himself to think of a life outside of prison.

But the methodical, practical part of him knew better. They were two of the most high-profile prisoners in the whole system. The idea that the people securing them would let down their guard long enough for them to get free was almost certainly fool’s gold. Which meant that they’d probably have to kill their way out.

And while he didn’t have any objection to that, per se, he was skeptical about how successful they’d be. Ash Pierce might be a former CIA assassin, but he was a failed college student. He doubted that he’d fare as well as her when things got rough.

You’re right to be worried, his Jessie told him, this one can’t be trusted any more than the profiler can.

Mark nodded in silent agreement with his unseen advisor, the one who had guided him through so many trials and tribulations over the last year and a half. He had to be very careful here.

Another prospect occurred to him. If he was that dubious about the chances of escape, maybe his best bet was to tell Jessie Hunt about Pierce’s gestating plan. He’d surely win brownie points, which could translate into a nicer cell, better meals, and maybe even more visits. She’d be in his debt. And having Jessie Hunt in your debt was always a good place to be.

This situation would require some more thought.