"Can I help you with something?" I had to break the silence, since Jones seemed to be more interested in staring than actually talking at the moment.
Jones sniffed and stood up from his chair. He was tall, built like a Spartan warrior. There was no lack of muscles or attitude in his body. He focused all his attention on me like a laser beam, making my skin prick with dreaded anticipation. I didn’t mind confrontation, since it usually cleared the air after the dust settled, but I found I liked it better when I wasn't a captain. It was easy to handle conflict when I wasn't in charge of a team and responsible for their performance. Whatever I said to Jones would affect his work as part of the Hellraisers, meaning I had to play my part carefully.
"Nobody wanted to say what I'm going to," Jones proclaimed loudly. Immediately, I felt my back straighten with the defensiveness of animal instinct. Criticism I was used to, but the dramatics of it annoyed me. Visible disrespect was still a problem. He met my gaze stonily with his piercing gray eyes. "With all due respect, Captain Taylor, I should be the one leading this mission."
It was a surprise… and yet, it wasn't.
Jones had showed disrespect on the last mission. My hand automatically tightened into a fist as tension ran up and down my body. Keep calm, Roxy. Channel the diplomacy skills you've been forced to build.
I kept my mouth tight. "And you're going to file a complaint against me?" I wanted to ask him if he'd ever stared into the eyes of a dozen creatures and Immortal hunters as they came at him with gem blasts. Of course he hadn't. He had no idea what was lurking in places like the Immortal Plane. Sure, he was competent and had experience with redbills, but I had helped lead the battle that had ended the freaking apocalypse. I’d started as a young fighter in Lyra’s shadow, but I had earned this. This inter-team stuff was nothing compared to everything I’d been through.
Jones curled his lips with a note of pity. "No, I don't plan on ruffling any feathers yet… it would look bad on my record. Everyone can see Hindley fawns over you." I nearly broke into laughter. Was a cold, emotionally unavailable façade what we were calling “fawning” now? "But if you fail—and I suspect you will, on a mission of this size—I'll be standing by to step in and take your place. I won't hesitate."
Anger flared in me. He thought he was going to swing in and undermine me? I bit my tongue for a few seconds so I wouldn't say something foul. This forty-year-old man was completely ignoring rank and openly challenging me. I stared him down, filled with impatience and contempt. I had seen horrors beyond his imagination. He was no knight in shining armor. Funny, I had never liked those stories of someone getting rescued by a warrior when my mother had told them to me, because I’d always imagined myself as the knight who came riding in.
He didn't need to save me. I would save me.
A memory popped into my head, like a bubble climbing to the surface of a still pond. I remembered, too vividly, my anger at Lyra and Bryce during my time under them. When I was new, they’d acted like they knew all the answers. My heart softened despite myself. The sting of not feeling heard by Lyra was what had fanned the flames of the annoyances I had with her. Slowly, the tight knot of anger unraveled in my chest. I took a deep breath. Here and now, Jones was doing the same thing as I had.
How many times had I felt shafted by Bryce's preference for Lyra, or his reluctance to hand over power to me? No wonder, I wanted to tell myself now. I hadn’t earned it then, hadn’t demonstrated any leadership qualities by heckling him and Lyra. I was a firecracker of a soldier. I could fight like hell, but that didn't matter when it came to leadership. When praise came my way, I’d brushed it off because it felt false. If I did the same to Jones, I was sure that he would disregard my words the same way.
Praise won't work, even if he's a good soldier, and a stern reprimand would just stoke his anger.
Without trying, my face lapsed into a stony mask of Hindley. I liked her neutrality. It was safe. The distance was a reminder that a captain was dangerous if they were provoked by disrespect.
Jones quirked one eyebrow. If he was impressed or angry, I couldn't read it on his broad face.
"If I fail, I'll take responsibility for it, because that's what leaders do," I told him evenly. My eyes hardened. "But I'd advise you to think more about your teammates than my performance. Your expertise was brought on to help. You have skills you can teach the others." It was true. The old Roxy wouldn't have danced the elegant line between offering a peaceful olive branch and a stern telling-off, but I certainly managed it now.
"I will never do anything that hurts a member of this team," Jones pressed, a rising tone of offense in his voice.
"Good," I countered, truly meaning it. It was in my best interest, and his, if he behaved like a professional. "I don't care about your ambitions, as long as you continue doing your job and supporting the Hellraisers as a team. I expect to see your best performance in the field tomorrow. And your worries about me? We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." I held back a smart comment about how the bridge wouldn't even appear to be crossed. Jones pressed his lips tight together, probably mulling over whether he wanted to pick a fight with me. I wasn't an idiot. I had a reputation around
