When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 67: Double Ghosted

Chapter 67: Double Ghosted

Elijah touched the scar on his chin, glancing around the bar from his seat by the counter.

He had Kant’s phone hacked to dig through his messages. There wasn’t much—the hitman clearly made a habit of wiping his history. Still, there was one ongoing interaction that stood out. Someone saved as Ghost had been messaging him, worried.

Must’ve been important.

Still sore over the wounds Kant had carved into his skin, Elijah saw an opportunity. He fired off a message to bait the Ghost out, planning to hold this person hostage and leak the news underground. That would drag Kant back for a rematch.

The thirst for blood thrummed in his veins. He adjusted his jacket over the gun holstered at his waist, wincing slightly at the unhealed cuts being pulled with the movement.

The bartender, a blond guy with a pleasant smile, whom Elijah had casually spilled his plan to, leaned on the counter with an easygoing curiosity. "How are you gonna know who’s your guy?"

Elijah tilted the cracked phone in his hand. "I’ll text the number and see who checks their phone."

"Not your first time tracking someone down, eh?" the bartender watched him, wiping the counter with lazy efficiency.

Elijah squinted at him. "Are you new? I’ve never seen you before."

"First day," the bartender flashed him an easy grin. "Heard a spot opened up, and I had some spare time, so I figured, why not? The location’s good, money’s even better."

Elijah nodded, taking a sip of his beverage.

The bartender drummed his fingers against the counter. "It got me thinking--what could’ve possibly made the last guy quit?"

Elijah stilled, scrutinizing him. "Why are you curious about that?"

The bartender chuckled and tossed a high-end bottle into the air, then caught it without looking. "It’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it?"

Before Elijah could press further, the bartender’s gaze flicked towards the entrance. "Somebody just walked in. Could be your guy."

Elijah glanced over his shoulder. The bar was busy, people coming and going in a constant shuffle. He shot a quick text to Ghost, then looked up, waiting for someone to check their phone.

His eyes landed on a familiar, expensive face. Gabriel Byers? It had been ages since the Byers heir last showed his face here, but it wasn’t that strange. Either way, the rich kid’s movements weren’t his concern.

Elijah brushed through the crowd with his eyes, then turned back to the counter. "See anyone checking their phone?"

The bartender pointed—right at Gabriel. "That guy."

Elijah frowned. "Not who I’m looking for."

The bartender tilted his head, his expression strangely knowing. "You could also call the number. See who picks up."

"...Good idea." Elijah pressed Call.

A funky ringtone—so painfully out of place it had to belong to someone who had money but zero taste—broke through the bar’s low hum.

Elijah’s stomach dropped.

Over at the entrance, Gabriel Byers fumbled with his phone like it was a hot potato, then raised it to his ear. He turned in slow circles, searching the room. His lips moved with the same words spoken over the phone, "I’m here, but I don’t see you. Where are you?"

Elijah hung up and turned stiffly back to the counter, rubbing the scar on his chin. "Shit."

The bartender raised his eyebrows. Elijah could have sworn he saw him smile, but when he looked up, the smile was gone.

"That Ghost guy is my boss’ family," Elijah whispered, exasperated. "I can’t touch him."

"Aww, there goes your plan," the bartender mirrored his disappointment, but it felt more mocking than anything.

Once again, just as Elijah was about to ask where the hell he had crawled out from, the bartender threw another distraction his way.

"He’s coming over," he warned, turning away.

Elijah frowned, but subtly slid further to the side, pretending he didn’t exist.

Gabriel leaned over the counter, blinking earnestly at the bartender. "Hey, excuse me, have you seen a man with black hair, dark eyebags, permanently annoyed expression... uh, wearing a black parka?"

Pretending to be busy, the bartender didn’t even turn his head to look at him, only waved apologetically. "Nope! Never seen him!"

Gabriel faltered, glancing at the people sitting by the counter. He made eye contact with Elijah, and a brief look of disdain crossed his face.

Stupefied, Elijah turned to watch him walk away.

That arrogant asshole, what was that look for? Trying to figure out what could have earned him the stank eye, Elijah looked down to check himself. He wasn’t wearing the high-end attire, but he wasn’t in rags either.

Annoyed, he turned back to the counter and reached for his glass. This was not how tonight was supposed to go. The Ghost wasn’t supposed to be Gabriel Byers. Elijah brought the drink to his lips but paused.

Wait a minute—why was the hitman in cahoots with Gabriel Byers, out of all people? He glanced over his shoulder, at the clueless heir circling the bar.

Was Kant targeting him? Getting close to take him out? The hitman had enough reason to go after the Byers family.

No, if he were going to take out the heir, Gabriel Byers wouldn’t be walking anymore. Elijah set down his cup to adjust his aching shoulder.

Something was fishy here. The news said someone had kidnapped Gabriel Byers, and after that, his number so conveniently happened to be in a hitman’s phone. One text message got him running like a dog to a whistle. What was the deal between them?

The heir looked anxious, so it must have been something big. Did the hitman have some leverage over him? Blackmail?

"There’s something sketchy going on," Elijah muttered, habitually running his fingers over the scar on his chin.

"Funny. I’ve had the same thought cross my mind lately," the bartender commented, in the middle of preparing someone’s drinks.

Elijah frowned at the weird remark, but brushed it off. He finished his drink, then reached into his pocket to browse Kant’s phone for more clues, but his fingers only brushed the soft fabric of his jacket. "What the..."

He quickly scanned the counter, then whipped around to look for Gabriel Byers, but the heir was already gone. Shit, had he swiped the phone while Elijah wasn’t looking?

The bartender glanced at him. "Everything alright?"

Elijah pushed his empty glass towards him, his blood boiling. "It doesn’t matter. How much do I owe you?"

"Fifteen."

Elijah looked at him as though he’d just seen a fish fly behind the bar. "For a soda?"

The bartender served drinks and flashed smiles to a group of pretty ladies, then raised his hands in an innocent shrug. "Inflation, am I right?"

"Tell me about it." Elijah pulled out a twenty from his wallet and dropped it on the counter.