DIRE : SEED (The Dire Saga Book 2) by Andrew Seiple

back. He averted his eyes anyway.
    “You’re a friend, Martin,” I told him. “You don’t have to be useful. Just being here is good.”
    “Yeah, yeah. It’s...” He shrugged. “Jus’ pride I guess.”
    “She knows how that goes.” I grinned.
    He smiled, looked back. “So how the fuck you run into Bunny? You the one shot her?”
    “No, no. See, it all started when someone shot at Dire in the garage...” I told him the events that had transpired after I’d left him at the restaurant, and his face got more worried the farther I got into the tale.
    “Shit. Why the hell’s a Militia girl meeting a bunch of goons in a garage?”
    “Don’t know. They definitely weren’t good at assassinations. Height of stupidity to pull that in a well-used garage during peak hours.”
    “Might have done that so she didn’t suspect nothing,” Martin rubbed his chin. “Goes to meet someone, gets up there, lights go off, and there’s guys waiting for her in the dark...”
    “But who?”
    “Militia’s got enemies. Hell, I used to be one of them. I wouldn’t use dumbasses like the ones you described, though. Shit, cell phones on a hit? Stupid.”
    “Yeah.” I yawned. “Well, Dire’s going to eat an MRE and hit the sack. You good to care for Bunny for a few hours?”
    “I got her. Go, rest.” He stood, moved back to the main bedroom. I watched him go, and smiled.
    Good friends are hard to find. I was glad to have him.

CHAPTER 5: SOMETHING FISHY
    “Morgenstern Incorporated is one of the veterans of the nineties dotcom bubble and burst. It came out of that stressful time stronger for its competitors troubles, buying up many of them during their time of  crisis. The current CEO, Aegon Morgenstern, was a noted world-traveler and playboy in his youth, engaging in everything from big-game hunting to mountain climbing. No stranger to the vagaries of villains and criminals, he's survived assassination attempts, kidnapping, hostile takeover attempts, and disasters both natural and unnatural. Not bad for a man pushing sixty-three!”
     
    --Documentary of a Master Mogul, an article by Davis Jaffees appearing in Gates Magazine
     
    I wasn’t feeling so charitable when he shook me awake. “Mfuszavrz!” I insisted, rolling over and swiping a hand in his general direction. But he persisted.
    “Your phone is blowing up.” He said, poking my shoulder as I snarled into the pillow.
    “Frmbubl. Gr. Urg...” But he was right— I could hear the burner phone chiming repeatedly. I pulled myself together. “How long was Dire out?”
    “Couple hours.” I blinked, looked at his face. He was looking a little ragged himself.
    “All right.” I started to sit up, remembered his penchant for modesty. I was wearing a bra at the moment, but still it might upset him. “Actually, could you hand Dire the phone?”
    “Sure, sure.”
    He fetched it, I took it, and glanced at the number. One of the advantages my supergenius gave me was a mostly eidetic memory. I recognized the number as one of the pair I’d been given by the businessman. This, then, was one of my teammates to be.
    And as it turned out, they were cranky.
    “You did not call. We do not have much time to plan this thing.” Sounded female. College-age or older. A slight accent. European? Maybe.
    “Dire was unsure of the etiquette in this situation,” I explained.
    “Who?”
    “She. Dire.”
    A sigh. “Look, this is no time to fuck around.”
    “We are agreed on that. So how do you wish to proceed?”
    “We have a lot of things we can’t talk about over the phone, so—”
    “Actually that’s incorrect,” I interrupted. “As soon as you called this phone, your transmission was quietly swapped to a circuit normally reserved for government personages wishing to talk off the record. No logs, no record it ever happened, no one listening in. Once Dire found the backdoors, it was pretty easy to hack.”
    Silence for a minute. “Hello?” I asked.
    “Still here. Not