“How long do you think we have until they secure a location?” Eli asked.

“Not long. My guess would be in the next fifteen to twenty minutes.”

“I’ll get ready.”

I did the same. I always wore a few weapons when we were on-station, but a few more wouldn’t hurt, especially with our counterparts in full Valovian armor. I secured a plas blade to my right leg. The twenty-five-centimeter energy blade wouldn’t activate unless I held the grip and pressed the switch, which meant it didn’t need a sheath.

The energy blade defaulted to a lethal cutting edge, but it could also be set to deliver a nonlethal stun. I could draw it and switch modes in a heartbeat, a move drilled into us by countless military instructors because the line between life and death could flip in a fraction of a second.

A plas pistol went on my other hip. I wasn’t as strong shooting with my left hand, but my left-handed knife skills were shit, so this was my strongest configuration for close fighting. I peeled off my short-sleeved shirt and strapped on a lightweight, flexible armored vest. It wouldn’t stop much, but it was the most inconspicuous armor I owned. When I put my shirt back on, it was difficult to tell that I was protected.

I pulled my long hair up into a tight bun. The dark, curly strands fought containment, but I ruthlessly pinned them in place. Long hair was a liability in a close fight, but I refused to cut it off—my hair was easily my best feature. It set off my golden tan skin and pale blue eyes and gave me a hint of softness that my face lacked.

As the last pin slid into place, a soft ping rang through my cabin. The ship had received a new message. A glance revealed it was from Torran and that he’d secured a private room at a nearby restaurant.

I hit the ship’s intercom. “Kee, the meeting details are in the ship’s log. Eli, be ready in two.”

They both confirmed and I released the intercom. Time to see if this was a trap or a legitimate offer.

The restaurant Torran had chosen was one of the nicest in the area. It was the kind of place two CEOs would meet to discuss mergers and acquisitions. The few patrons I saw from the entrance were well-heeled and well-dressed.

The maître d’ flicked a glance from my head to my feet—including my visible weapons—and then did the same to Eli, who sported even more weapons. Her gaze stopped on his face, and she just stared for a second before she remembered to smooth her expression. “May I help you?”

I suppressed my smile, well aware of how Eli affected some people. “I’m meeting someone in the private dining room.”

“Your name?”

“Tavi Zarola.”