The Chevalier du Morte returns to America after seven years with the intent of proposing to his beloved Meredith only to find that his Brothers of the Order are not happy that the Council has changed the rules so that he can marry her.
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The Red Cross of Gold II:. The King of Terrors
Mark Ramsay returns to America bent on marrying the girl he left behind, but things are not well on the home front. Two members of his ancient Order set themselves on a dangerous course to stop him at all costs, believing that the marriage will cause the dissolution of the Order. However, his worst enemy lies much closer to his heart when his most beloved Brother weighs into the equation on the wrong side. The Knight of Death places everything on the line as he battles to save the life of his son and win back the woman he loves.
Chuckling at the thought of his German superiority, he suddenly passed the braid around the Knight’s throat and pulled back on it with most of his considerable strength half expecting the slender cord to break under the strain. He had never realized the strength of human hair. The Knight kicked and squirmed on the counter for what seemed an eternity and then stopped moving. Immortal? Ha! So much for that idea. He let go of the braid and stepped cautiously to the side of the bar to look at his handiwork. The Knight’s face was a dark, blotchy shade of purple and there was a deep red mark on his throat. Schroeder held two fingers against the artery in his neck. No pulse. He watched for several long minutes. No respiration. Ja! He was dead all right. Time to get moving.
Heinrich left the Knight on the counter and went to pack his belongings. When he came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, he remembered with some bit of panic that Gavin’s truck was still out at the mansion in the country and that Gavin had used the car that he had rented to go to Waco. He had no idea where the keys for Gavin’s BMW might be and he had no time to waste looking for them. A cab was out of the question. He didn’t want any witnesses placing him at the house where a dead man was found on the kitchen counter.
"Damn it!" he cursed in German and looked at the dead Knight. Ramsay had not moved. Still dead. He could take Ramsay’s car. It was a rental. He’d wipe it down and leave it at the airport. But the keys were in one of his pockets. Gavin had stupidly allowed the man to keep his keys and his wallet and everything else he might have in his pockets.
Heinrich set his bags on the floor and approached the still figure carefully. He did not relish the thought of touching a dead man, especially rummaging through his pockets like a common thief and the fellow had a damnable lot of pockets on his black cargo pants. Heinrich started with the hip pocket, running his hand in it gingerly, coming up empty-handed. Nothing. He moved his search to the left thigh pouch. Inside he found a white handkerchief, a pre-paid calling card and a business card from the car rental company. He dropped the stuff on the floor. He pulled up the Velcro flap on the pouch below his knee and then found himself flying backwards as the knee hit him squarely in the nose. Blood flowed freely down the front of his shirt as he sat on the floor with his back against the refrigerator, staring up at the man in shocked horror.
Ramsay turned his head slowly and looked at him from beneath wayward strands of his dark hair. He coughed and spit up a mouthful of bloody foam on the floor.
"Wair’re ye goin’, Heinrich?" he asked in raspy whisper.