Title: Mercy Undeserved
Series: The Moretti Trilogy, #2
Author: Kristina Hall
Genre: Christian historical suspense
Publication date: 8/29/2021
How
much more will she lose?
Lillian Rossi had it all—a devoted husband, a new baby, and all the riches
she’d dreamed of. But one January day changed everything. Now, the consequences
of her late husband’s sins extend to her and her son, and Matteo, though only a
baby, is the rightful heir to the Rossi empire, making him a target.
Alberto Moretti promised to protect Lillian and her son, but he well knows the
cruelty and desperation of the Rossi family. He served them all too long—until
God set him free.
As Lillian and Alberto are thrown together in a race to save her and Matteo’s
lives, their own sins and Stefano Rossi’s plans threaten to destroy them. Will
they fall prey to the danger so close behind, or will they find mercy they’ve
done nothing to deserve?
Excerpt (Chapter 1):
Lillian Rossi
swept across the dance floor, skirt swishing at her knees.
Sweat trailed
down her temples, and the humid, smoky air pressed close. She pasted on a smile
and spun in a circle, twirling away from the man who’d asked her to dance.
Only in laughter,
dance, and drink could she forget.
Forget most of
her family didn’t want a thing to do with her. Forget only a lonely hotel room
and little Matteo waited for her when dawn cracked the sky.
The first
mournful notes of a waltz slipped through the laughter, conversation, and slap
of shoes against wood.
She eased from
the crowd and pressed close to the velvet wall hangings, her throat too tight,
her breaths too quick.
Forget Vin lay
dead beneath six feet of New York dirt. Forget the January day that had taken
him from her. Forget he’d never again hold her close and lead her in time with
that gentle, haunting melody.
Oh, forgetting
wasn’t easy tonight.
She dabbed her
temples to catch the perspiration before it could do more damage to her cosmetics
and made her way to the bar.
She braced her
hands against the polished mahogany, and the bartender slid her a gin.
Lights
glistened in the clear liquor, and she curled her fingers around the glass.
Cool seeped into her palm. She lifted the glass to her lips and let the fire
claim her throat. She would forget. Somehow, she would forget.
She lowered the
glass to the wood and met her gaze in the long mirror hanging behind the bar.
Hollowness claimed her eyes, accentuated by the black eyeliner and gray eye
shadow she’d applied hours before.
Save for her
green dress, she well looked the part of a grieving widow. Yes, her mother had
forced the traditional black garb on her for the time she’d stayed at the farm,
but that sort of attire wouldn’t let her forget.
Not that
anything would let her forget.
She slid the
glass forward. In one smooth motion, the bartender refilled it and two more
belonging to the revelers on either side of her.
The final note
of the waltz echoed through the room, carried by a lone saxophone.
She finished
her drink in a couple of swallows and slipped from the bar. Dancing would do
her no good tonight. If she closed her eyes, Vin would be here, his arm warm
around her shoulders, his smile for her alone.
She pressed to
the velvet wall covering once again and folded her arms over her chest. Despite
the closeness of the air, a shiver worked up her spine.
She blinked. As
if a single motion could push away unfounded worries.
Months had
passed since she’d left New York, and Stefano hadn’t threatened her. Why would
he? She held nothing over him. He was Vin’s younger brother. He could have the
Rossi wealth and power. All of it. At least that’s what she’d convinced Mae and
Davis of. Her younger sister and Mae’s fiancé wouldn’t have let her go
otherwise.
Fear wouldn’t
rule her.
She lowered her
arms and smoothed her skirt. She would dance. She would drink. She would laugh.
And she would
forget.
The door on the
other side of the room opened, and a couple walked in, her hand resting on his
arm. Unremarkable save for the man behind them.
She fisted her
hands, and her nails dug into her palms. The lights were low enough, the smoke
thick enough he wouldn’t see her. Unless Stefano had sent him to find her.
She pressed
closer to the velvet.
Alberto Moretti
strode across the dance floor, parting the dancers with a single look. The
months hadn’t changed him. If anything, they’d hardened him. The set of his
shoulders carried warning, and the purpose of his steps promised nothing good
to any man who got in his way.
Whom was she
lying to? He would see her. How could he not?
And why was he
here? Had he stooped to work for Stefano? Had he come to kill her?
He stopped at
the bar and leaned in to speak to the bartender.
She took a slow
step to the side, then another. She had to leave. Without him seeing. Without
him knowing she’d been here. She could disappear to another city, lose herself
in another speakeasy.
He turned, one
hand propped on the edge of the bar, and his gaze settled on her.
She froze.
The door swung
open yet again, and six men traipsed in. Vin’s men. No, Stefano’s men.
Her stomach
knotted, and air stalled in her lungs.
A hand
encircled her wrist.
She wrenched
free and plastered herself against the wall.
Alberto towered
over her. “We’ve got no time for that. They’re right behind me.” His voice cut
low over the rhythm of the band, and he tipped his head to the door to the
right of the bar.
Then he wasn’t
with Stefano’s men. But why had he come?
His hand found
her wrist again, and he pulled her away from the wall.
“No.” She had
to get away from him, had to … Had to what? Stay and face Stefano’s men?
He forced her
along, now gripping her upper arm, his body positioned a hair behind her.
Almost as if he wished to shield her.
Shouts
fractured the air. The band fell silent.
He drove her
toward the door to the side of the bar. Her shoes skittered across the wood,
losing traction.
He snaked his
arm around her and opened the door, shoved her through.
A guard stumbled
to the side. A fist thudded against flesh, and weight hit the floor.
Gunfire cracked
behind her. Glass shattered. Screams split the air. Screams that echoed from
the speakeasy and from her own throat.
She’d die here,
torn by bullets. She’d leave Matteo an orphan.
Alberto gripped
her arm. Drove her up a flight of stairs, through another door, into the empty
warehouse that covered the speakeasy, and out into the humid night air.
No, she could never forget.
About the Author:
Kristina Hall
is a sinner saved by grace who seeks to glorify God with her words. She is a
homeschool graduate and holds a degree in accounting. When she’s not writing,
she enjoys reading, arm wrestling, lifting weights, and playing the violin.
Connect with Kristina:
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21133401.Kristina_Hall
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kristina-hall
Review Opportunity:
Kristina is giving away free e-copies (mobi, epub, or PDF) of Mercy Undeserved to anyone who’s willing to leave an honest review.
Anyone who’s interested can fill out
this Google form: https://forms.gle/iH2QKxxB8bUq4BXDA
Sounds like an intense series. Love that cover though....
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