Talk about plain bad luck, Joe thought grimly. “The explosives were small and shouldn’t have caused much damage. Unfortunately the admiral had recently refueled his craft. There was a small leak in the engine. When the explosive went off, it triggered a chain reaction that turned the admiral’s pride and joy into kindling. At least that’s the preliminary report.”

Captain Phillips didn’t speak for several seconds. “Aren’t you going to tell me that the admiral tied up in a restricted area? That he shouldn’t have been there in the first place?”

“No, sir.” What was the point? Joe had been in the navy long enough to know excuses only made the situation worse. Besides, who would have told an admiral to move his boat?

“You have a great career,” his captain told him. “You’ve worked hard, moved up the ranks. I was confident you’d make it to admiral yourself, before you retired.”

Joe had walked into some of the most dangerous situations in the world and lived to tell the tale, but nothing he’d experienced prepared him for the sense of fury that gripped him as he sat there and heard his career talked about in the past tense. The navy was all he knew, all he’d ever wanted.

He’d told the men to go have fun. It was his responsibility. Technically, he could pass the punishment on down, but next in line was Lieutenant Grayson, currently missing most of his right leg and facing a long road to recovery.

No. This time the chain of command stopped here. With Joe.

Phillips flipped open a file. “You’ve been with the SEALs nearly ten years, Joe. You’re a fine officer and one of the best men I’ve ever worked with. The admiral wants you punished, and I want to save your career if I can.”

“Thank you, sir,” Joe said, feeling the first hint of relief.