At least some of the SEALs were glad to have her. But she couldn’t take any joy in having won over the others when she’d lost Griffin. Mission accomplished, but at what price?

The crowd of SEAL instructors parted in front of her abruptly, and she gulped as Admiral Duquesne strode forward. His expression was unreadable.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant Tate.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Later today, at thirteen hundred hours, I’m convening a review board to determine your status going forward.”

She frowned, confused. What had she done wrong?

He said briskly, “You didn’t complete Hell Week and have missed a number of training days hence. That necessitates a training review.”

He turned and strode away, leaving her staring at his back in shock. The men around her went silent. Maybe they were as stunned as she was.

“So that’s it,” she said heavily. “The Navy has found its loophole to get rid of me after all.” She looked around at the suddenly grim-faced SEAL instructors who’d come to her rescue without hesitation when she’d needed them. “Thank you for saving my life, gentlemen. It has been an honor knowing you all.”

* * *

Griffin was so angry at Admiral Duquesne that he didn’t trust himself not to physically harm the man. It was a travesty to subject Sherri to a review board for missing training. It certainly hadn’t been her fault she’d missed the last few kilometers of the night run, nor that she’d been running for her life while her teammates did push-ups on the freaking beach.

He gathered himself to follow the admiral and give the old man a serious piece of his mind when a hard hand closed around his arm.

Ray Peevy.

He scowled thunderously at his teammate. “It’s crap. She’s earned a right to continue her training. Duquesne has no business tossing her—”

“We have something else to take care of first, my brother,” Peevy said soberly. “Someone else.”

Right. The mole inside BUD/S. Back in the valley, Sherri had relayed having heard the Russians talk about their inside man being certain Griffin would trade himself for her.

“Any idea who the inside guy is?” Griffin asked.

“I have my suspicions. How about you?” Ray responded cautiously.

“Same.”

“Who are you thinking?” Ray asked.

“Grundy,” Griffin muttered under his breath.

“Grundy,” Ray confirmed. “Shall we go have a small conversation with him?”

Griffin and Peevy traded dark looks. Neither of them was going to come out and accuse anyone of committing treason without concrete proof, or at least a confession of some kind. But if Grundy was guilty, they would see him taken down if it was the last thing they both did.

Peevy asked one of the milling instructors, “Where are the BUD/S trainees now?”

“Chow,” someone replied.

Griffin and Peevy pivoted and fell into step, striding grimly toward the mess hall.

* * *