When the flight crew announced the last beverage service before landing, Charles poked my arm on the side by the window and pointed to the bathroom, using my body to hide the gesture from the marshals. I turned, giving him a questioning look. Charles grinned and nodded.
I shrugged and unbuckled, then stood. “Bathroom,” I said when the air marshal shot me a look.
He grimaced and got out of his seat, following me to the bathroom, which was stupid because it was right in front of our seats. I let myself in and waited.
Nerves sent my blood pounding in my ears. What felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes later, a soft tap on the door proceeded Charles’ entrance.
“The air marshals?” I asked in a whisper.
He pressed a finger to his lips, shaking with repressed laughter. I cou
