When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 70: Avoidance Tactics

Chapter 70: Avoidance Tactics

Gabriel lounged on the couch in a patch of the golden hour sunlight, a book in hand, grinning and chuckling.

Hale looked over his shoulder, curious. "What have you been so busy with this whole afternoon?" But the moment he laid his eyes on the page, he recoiled as if burnt. "Great heavens—why this again?!"

Gabriel snickered, not lifting his gaze from the comic of two naked men getting down to it. "It’s good research material."

"You’re soiling your mind! I will not condone this!" Hale swiftly walked back where he’d come from.

"Yeah, yeah."

Gabriel stared at the page a while longer for good measure. When he was sure Hale was really gone, he sighed and hugged the book to his chest, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

So far, he’d managed to postpone going to the cult, but Hale was getting more insistent by day. The only times the evil spirit would leave him alone were when he said his head hurt, when he was showering or when he was reading smut.

By consequence, Gabriel was exceptionally clean and... horny.

With a sigh, he slumped up to reach for a hand lotion. He might as well have been a mermaid with how long he spent in the shower, his hands were so dry.

Apparently having had enough of being brushed off, Hale returned with a round of complaints. "No, this has become ridiculous—I know exactly what you’re doing! You cannot avoid me forever with these tricks!"

Gabriel quickly grabbed the tissue box, holding that and the lotion up with a hint.

Hale frowned, halting on his way. "What are you doing with that?"

"What do people usually do when they look at sex scenes?" Gabriel raised his eyebrows, nodding towards the book.

"Oh, dear lord, I beg of you!" Hale covered his eyes, howling at the ceiling. "Release me from this confinement and free this child from lust!"

Gabriel cleared his throat, hooking his finger behind the waistband of his sweatpants. "Are you going to stay and watch, or...?"

As expected, the evil spirit evacuated as if there was an exorcism in progress. "Unapologetic degeneracy," he huffed under his breath.

Once the shadow was fully gone, Gabriel sank back into the couch with a sigh. That should have bought him at least an hour.

If it kept going like this, he would have to start reading erotica out loud just to keep Hale off his back. Maybe he could sign up to voice a few of the most "degenerate" audiobooks in the meantime, get a side hustle in.

Gabriel stretched out, basking in the sunlight for a minute. Then he glanced at the two seemingly innocent objects next to him on the couch.

"Eh, might as well."

He sat up a bit, leaning his head against the backrest and closing his eyes. His hands slipped under his shirt, roaming a familiar path. He could almost imagine that they weren’t his own, that they were someone else’s, that they were... Kant’s.

The thought sent a shiver through him, and he let out a soft sigh. Gabriel pictured those hands, rough and restrained in touches, exploring his body, caressing his skin while a deep-brown gaze studied him from under a furrowed brow.

A satisfied smirk curled at the corner of his lips, fantasies playing out like a silent movie in his mind, imagining the touch, the heat, the sensations. It was a bittersweet indulgence—to fantasize about what might never be.

...Never be?

It was like a record scratching to a halt. Gabriel’s eyes snapped open, his little smirk dropping.

"What do you mean, never be?" he argued with the voice in his head. "I know where to find him. I could go to Jolly Wings on a stakeout until he shows up."

However, he wasn’t going to do that again. Kant must’ve been recuperating, healing his injuries—he would be back eventually. But could Gabriel be sure of that? How well did he really know the man, having barely spent a month together?

No, the amount of time spent together couldn’t determine how well or little one knew another. Not when someone could watch him grow up and still stick a knife in his back. Jefferson had proven that much.

"Ugh, fuck me." Gabriel smacked his forehead. "And not even in the good way."

The atmosphere had been successfully crashed. The sun had set, its lukewarm touches replaced by the cold breath of the night.

This feeling had been too familiar the past week. Every time he let his thoughts wander to Kant, the loneliness in his chest welled up, spoiling the mood. No wonder he’d been resorting to smut. At least those had a climax—a predictable happy ending. Unlike reality.

Gabriel let the comic book still open on his lap flop shut. With a determined move, he stood up and walked to his desk to glance at Jefferson’s files. He needed more dirt on the man to get him kicked out of the chairman’s seat.

Conflicted, he rubbed his chin, pacing around. He didn’t want to become the chairman himself, but he didn’t want to let Jefferson get away with everything. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Hale kept bothering him and Kant didn’t show. But the problem was... he didn’t want to go to the cult alone. The place was creepy as hell. What if he got caught and trapped there? Nobody would know.

"No, that’s it. Enough excuses. I can’t wait for someone else to do it," Gabriel muttered, slapping the table. "I said I would do it alone if Kant didn’t help, so that’s what I’m going to do."

. . .

"Almost forgot—I have something for you!"

Jones flashed a familiar object before Kant. Its cracked screen glinted under the lamp like a damning piece of evidence.

Kant’s fingers twitched, barely resisting the urge to snatch the phone back. His mind raced. Why, how, what...

"Where did you get it?" His voice came out too flat, too controlled. If Jones noticed, he didn’t show it.

"How long were you going to hide it?" Jones leaned against the counter, flipping the cracked phone in his hand like a coin.

Kant forced himself to breathe evenly, his heart thudding once, twice. "Hide what?" he asked, measuring his tone.

"That you lost your phone." Jones tapped the dark screen of Kant’s phone with an unsuspecting smile. "How was I supposed to reach you?"

Kant’s gaze flickered from Jones’s face to the phone and back again, scanning for any hint of an ulterior motive. But with Jones, you never knew whether the game had started or if you were already losing.

Jones’s smile was unreadable, his fingers idly flipping the phone over, again and again, as if waiting for Kant to crack first. He definitely knew more than he should have.

Kant kept his stance relaxed, but his fingers curled slightly at his sides. "You went through it?"

Jones let out a soft scoff, like the idea amused him. "What do you take me for? Some nosy busybody?" He finally tossed the phone to him.

Kant caught the device midair, barely absorbing the impact before his grip tightened around it. "I sure know you like keeping busy."

"Relax. I’m not out to steal your secrets," Jones said breezily, turning to continue folding delivery boxes.

Kant exhaled through his nose, clicking the power button to check if the phone still worked. Nothing, no sign of life. The screen was cracked as if someone stomped on it mid-fight. If he was lucky, it was dead beyond saving, but if not...

Before he could dwell on it, Hunter, who’d been watching Kant sweat from the nearby booth, decided to drop a fun fact. "Speakin’ of secrets," he leaned back, his arms draped over the red backrest, "did ya know he’s homeless too?"

Kant’s face fell, the skin melting down his cheekbones. Great. This was going to be one hell of a dinner. He mentally tied a noose and kicked the stool.

"Carpooling, sharing a house—and you’re telling me you’re not a married couple?" Jones laughed, not bothering to look up. He didn’t seem surprised to hear Kant had moved out—must have been to his place to find it empty.

Hunter’s jaw twitched, a sharp exhale escaping through gritted teeth. "I told you to cut it out."

Jones grinned wider. "Oho, you’re getting real defensive. Makes me think the joke’s hitting a little too close to home."

That made Hunter’s fists clench. He shot a glare at Kant. "One more week. That’s it. Then you either find a flat or make friends with the raccoons."

Kant rolled his eyes. "I wasn’t planning to stay for long anyway."

"You think a month’s a short stay?" Hunter retorted.