When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 39: Out of Options

Chapter 39: Out of Options

The snow groaned beneath Kant’s boots as he made his way down the alley.

He swung open the heavy door of his storage unit, coming to get the briefcase with money to bring back to Jones, but to his horror, a pair of eyes stared back at him from deep within.

It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the dim surroundings. A raccoon. It had somehow gotten inside and was rummaging through his meager supplies.

"Seriously?" Kant stared at the unwelcome guest, unimpressed. If there wasn’t a ghost to haunt him, there would be a damn raccoon.

The creature paused its rummaging, then slowly, deliberately, lifted a sock with its paw, almost like it was mocking him.

"You’re judging my laundry now?" Kant narrowed his eyes, half-expecting the little guy to give him a thumbs-down. "Get out."

The raccoon, however, was unbothered. It stared at him, unblinking, as if daring him to make a move.

"I said, out." Kant stomped toward the raccoon.

Instead of complying, the gray-furred animal scrambled across the room, knocking over a stack of boxes in the process. Socks, papers, and a half-empty bottle of shampoo went flying.

Now the wild eyes peeked from between fallen boxes, glaring at Kant as if he were the one to break in.

"Look, fellow criminal, I’m not looking for roommates," Kant muttered, picking his way through the wreckage of his once-organized storage unit. "I’m barely tolerating myself in here, let alone a freeloading raccoon."

The glinting eyes blinked defiantly as the raccoon backed away, knocking over another box of socks before bolting out the door like a bat out of hell.

Dumbfounded, Kant watched it scamper into the evening, the gray fur fading into the distance.

How it had gotten in there in the first place was a mystery best left unsolved.

He sighed, surveying the chaos left behind. Clothes were strewn about like confetti, and his carefully stacked boxes were now a jumbled mess.

"Of course. Not like I have anything better to do."

He bent down to start picking up the scattered items, but a knock at the open door made him pause. It was followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat to catch his attention.

Kant turned to find the storage unit staff member standing there, arms crossed, eyes scanning his space.

"Mr. Smith, I can’t help but notice you coming here awfully often," she regarded him with the fake name he used, voice tight.

Kant tensed, already sensing where this might be headed.

"Much more than our average renter," she emphasized, stepping inside as her gaze swept over the area, landing immediately on the sleeping bag that was sprawled on the couch. Her lips tightened into a thin line. "Almost as if you are... living here."

Kant opened his mouth to deny it, but she raised a hand, cutting him off.

"And I believe I made it very clear when you signed up that living in storage units is illegal. It’s not just a rule—it’s the law. You can’t be camping out here."

Kant bit back his initial response and forced as much of an innocent smile as he could. "Living here? During winter? Who would do that?"

The staff member’s eyes narrowed. She gestured toward the sleeping bag with a quick flick of her wrist. "You, Mr. Smith."

Kant grimaced before looking back to her, knowing she had him pinned. "Look, I’ve only been here overnight a couple of times, and it wasn’t—"

"You can’t do that." Her voice was sharp, slicing through his weak defense. "And if that isn’t bad enough, now we have raccoon problems. You do realize food attracts animals, don’t you?"

"I don’t leave any food out," Kant protested.

He made sure to buy only as much food as he would eat at once, and then throw out the empty packaging. As far as he was concerned, the raccoon problem wasn’t caused by him.

"I just saw a raccoon running out of your unit. Regardless, this can’t go on. You have to clear out. I’m giving you until tomorrow to remove your belongings and return the keys."

A disbelieving scoff left Kant. "Tomorrow? That’s not much time."

For a moment, they both remained silent. Then, seeing as Kant hadn’t gone out of his way to fight her, she decided to show leniency.

"Two days. And don’t let me catch you here tonight."

The air between them felt thick with finality. There was no point in arguing further. This lady wasn’t going to take any more bargaining, and Kant wasn’t in a position to push back.

After receiving a defeated nod from Kant, the staff worker left. The sound of her footsteps faded in the direction of the raccoon. Must’ve gone to chase it out completely.

With a frustrated sigh, he dropped down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. What a spectacular luck.

Where was he supposed to go on such short notice?

A: Renting a room in a motel.No. The thought of a stranger having a key to a room he had to sleep in made his skin crawl.

B: Using the guest room at the shaman’s teahouse.No way in hell. If he had to listen to another of his grandma’s attempts at matchmaking, his ears would bleed.

C: Crashing in the storage room at the chicken shop.Off the table. This was definitely not the time to ask Jones for favors.

While he was packing up slowly, his phone buzzed. Kant glanced at the screen and saw Gabriel’s name flashing. Of course, he wouldn’t hear the end of it now that Gabriel had his number.

With a sigh, Kant picked up the call and flopped back on the couch. "Yes?"

There was some shuffling on the other end, an unusual pause that made Kant wonder what he was up to. Finally, Gabriel spoke, his voice lowered. "Kant, I need your help."

"Help?" Kant’s brow furrowed. "Are you in trouble?"

"I—yeah," Gabriel stalled. "I heard footsteps by my apartment soon after I stepped inside. Someone must’ve followed me."

Kant stood up with a force that pushed the couch back a bit. "Send me your address. Don’t open the door to anyone. I’m coming over."