Embrace the Darkness (Darkness Series) by Lilly Gayle

wanted to rebel. To push him away. But it would be such a relief to unburden the guilt she’d shouldered since coming home. To tell someone about Iraq and that night in Germany—someone who wouldn’t think she was crazy.
    A tear escaped. She brushed it aside and held a fist to the painful ache in her chest. “Andrew and I were both specialists with the 615th MP Company stationed in Grafenwoehr. Then our unit was deployed to the Ninewah Province in Iraq. We were supposed to return to Germany after twelve months, but our tour was extended as part of the ‘stop-loss’ program. Most of us handled the extension well.” Everyone except Sergeant Morrison.
    Morrison had never been what Amber considered an exemplary field officer, but after his wife filed for divorce, he lost control. And her respect. His way of dealing with stress was to alternately revile or hit on women and verbally abuse his soldiers.
    “One night, our squad was called to protect an Iraqi police station from insurgents. I was in one of three Humvees sent out to reinforce the station. I usually drove, but that night, I manned the exposed 50-caliber machine gun." And she'd killed at least two Iraqis. Maybe more. Their deaths did not sit well on her conscience.
    Her nails dug into her palms. She took a deep breath, grinding her back teeth. Her jaw ached. Gerard watched her closely, his gaze inviting her to continue. She exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax.
    “Every convoy going into that part of Baghdad had been attacked. It wasn’t a question of whether we’d get hit but when. And I had a bad feeling about our mission from the moment we got the call. Tensions were running high and nerves were already frayed when the first mortar struck. We couldn’t even move because two of the Humvees were disabled." The fear came back as real and fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Images flashed through her mind. Her pulse raced as she nervously bounced her heel on the floor.
    “There was this sergeant from Wisconsin," she said, recalling Morrison’s glassy-eyed stare. "He cowered when he should have taken command. He ducked behind a Humvee and just kept screaming for us to stay down. Then another soldier, Hodges, ordered us to lay down cover fire until our sharpshooter could get into position. Morrison went ballistic. He ordered Hodges to rush the sniper—without waiting for confirmation on the sniper’s location. Hodges died. Then Morrison ordered another man to charge. The sniper got him too. I wanted the sniper to get Morrison. I didn’t want him dead. Just injured so someone else could take command. Then Morrison told Andrew to rush the sniper. Andrew refused. He said we should follow Hodges’ plan and give the sharpshooter time to find the target. Morrison pulled his revolver and stood. The sniper got him before he could shoot Andrew.”
    Bile burned the back of her throat. Her vision blurred.
    Gerard loomed closer, his big warm body giving her comfort and strength. Knowing he listened without judgment made it difficult to continue. She swallowed, forcing the words from a throat gone dry.
    “Afterwards, no one talked about that night. It was like we’d made a silent pact. Morrison was awarded the Purple Heart posthumously. But once we were back in Germany, I started having nightmares. When I ran into Andrew, he said he was having trouble sleeping too. He felt as guilty as I did.”
    She blinked to clear an embedded image of Morrison from her mind—his head snapping back before jerking forward, his eyes widening as the sniper’s bullet found its mark, piercing his forehead below his helmet. The back of his head exploded, spraying blood and gray matter onto the Humvee. His body twitched as if jolted by a thousand volts of electricity. A single crimson ribbon trickled from the wound, rolling over the bridge of his nose to pool in the corner of his left eye just before his knees buckled and he dropped to the sand.
    Amber covered her mouth