Quinn walked out of the elevator onto the 10th hotel floor, seeing two men, similarly dressed to the ones walking beside her, already standing outside of what seemed to be the door to the jefe's room.
She made firm eye contact with the two other guards as the door was opened for her. She stood in the threshold as the door of the lavish hotel room was revealed. She glanced over her shoulder with utmost subtlety, as she walked further into the room. The two men stayed outside of the door, the other two inside with her. Quinn explored the suite, walking through the open concept rooms. She was mostly checking for more guards, scoping out the space to see if there were any suspicious looking items sitting around. Arriving back into the main room, she went back and sat over at the couch.
"Hay algo que necesite, senorita?" One of the guards asked her as Quinn tried her best to comfortably sit in the most attractive way that she knew. Is there anything that you need, miss?
"Me sentiria mas seguro si fuera tres de ustedes," she told the two guards, then looking at the one standing on the left, giving him a wink. She could tell he was the top dog in terms of the guards, but she knew she had to have him alone. I'd feel safer if there were three of you outside
The guard seemed to realize what Quinn was communicating, a small satisfied smile crossing his face. "Escuchala. Afuera." The guard opened the door behind him and ordered the other guard to leave. Listen to her. Out.
Quinn stood as the guard closed the door behind him, approaching him slowly. He looked at her, looking slightly daunted, as if he had never encountered one of his boss's conquests setting their sights on him. Quinn had to internally laugh at how weak men could be.
"Senorita," the guard hesitantly begun to speak as she placed her hands on his shoulders, "mi jefe...." Miss, my boss...
"Tu jefe todovia no esta aqui." She grabbed his collar and tugged him towards her as she walked backwards towards the couch. Your boss is not here yet.
The man, ready to risk it all just for a score, leaned in to kiss her, which she dodged by forcefully turning him around to face the couch. She could almost feel him panic in that moment, so she reached her arms around him from behind, beginning to unbutton his shirt. As he helped her to remove it, however, Quinn knew it was time to strike and that once she did, she would have to hurry. Bringing her hand up, she powerfully brought it down onto the specific area of his neck, the right pressure point that would give her about a minute and a half. The man fell face first onto the couch, saving her from having to worry about the guards outside hearing him fall.
She then scrambled through the room, looking into all of the possible drawers, into the closet, through everything she possibly could, but there was nothing. These men were clearly sure to keep nothing discoverable for people like her. Returning back to the couch, she was ready to give up. That was until something on the floor had caught her eye.
It had definitely fallen out of the pocket of the passed out man on the couch in front of her. As she bent down to pick it up, however, she noticed the man begin to twitch awake. Stuffing the item in between the couch cushions, Quinn quickly readied her story.
She then took a breath, preparing herself for the events that would ensue, and pulled the guard off of the couch, allowing his body to fall to the floor with a loud thud. She then put on her best alarmed woman act.
She pulled the string of her bikini from behind her neck, pretending to be scrambling to get dressed once more. The man with the missing shirt on scrambling awake on the ground would definitely help her case.
"Hola?" She screamed out to the guard outside. "Hola? Ayudarme! Prisa! Por favor!"
The three guards outside burst through the door, seeing their colleague passed out on the ground, right by the bed. The main one, the one who had previously been inside, rose a brow at Quinn, her hair disheveled as she struggled to re-tie her bikini top.
"Mantenerse fuera," he told the other two guards, who did so, closing the doors once more. Stay outside.
"Que paso?" The guard asked as he bent down beside his fellow guard. What happened?
Quinn mustered up her best Spanish, "las cosas se estaban volviendo intensas y ¡él simplemente se desmayó! Creo que él se emocionó demasiado!" Things were getting intense and he just fainted! I think he got too excited.
"Si," the guard slowly processed as he was clearly made uncomfortable at the situation he had just walked into. "Collado!" He clearly yelled near the other guard's ear as he landed a few pats and slaps on the man's face, in attempt to wake him up.
"Oh no. Lo maté?" Quinn feigned fear. Is he dead?
"No, senorita," the guard said as he landed another good slap, causing the man to spring up with a loud gasp. "Que paso?" The man asked breathlessly. What happened?
"Pendejo!" His partner smacked him across the back of the head with his hand. Dumbass!
"Qué?" The man asked again, totally confused as the second guard picked his shirt up off of the ground and threw it at him forcefully.
"Te desmayaste mientras probabas suerte con la dama!" You fainted while you were trying your luck with the lady!
"No recuerdo eso!" I don't remember that!
"Mírala! El jefe se enojará cuando se entere de esto," the guard fearfully muttered. Look at her! The Boss is going to be angry when he finds out about this.
Quinn had to hold back her laughter at the two guards as they idiotically freaked out.
"El no tiene que saber. Ahora sal de aquí." She crossed her arms. He doesn't have to know. Now get out of here.
The two guards looked at her before getting up. The tall, dark haired one that she had knocked out rubbed the back of his head. The other, lighter skinned and fairer haired one quickly apologized before dragging his partner out of the room with him.
Quinn let out a chuckle. "Pendejos."
She then reached up to finish retying her bikini top and then pressed onto her earpiece. "Guards don't suspect a thing. I'm still in the hotel room."
"Have you found anything?" Steve asked her.
"Yes," she reached into the couch cushions and pulled out the item she had quickly stashed. It was a really old cellphone. A burner phone. She quickly retreated into the bathroom with it, knowing that she probably didn't have much time until the guard would realize that he was missing a phone.
She flipped it open, "it's a phone from 2007."
"What?"
"Shh. I need to focus," she told him as she scrolled down the messages. There was a fairly new one from an unmarked phone number.
"Steve, Sam. Write this down," she urgently said as she opened up the mysterious text. "Bailar. Rebelion. Abajo. Tres. Segundo. Tranquilo."
"Decoding it, right now," Sam's voice came in. Quinn then realized as she investigated further that there was nothing else on the phone. That text was important and the guard was too much of an idiot to delete it.
She then rushed out of the bathroom, placing the phone just under the coffee table near the couch.
"Hold on. I have company," she whispered before placing her hair back over her ear to cover the communication.
"Entrar!" She yelled as she sat casually on the couch, grabbing a magazine off of the coffee table and sprawling it over her lap.
"Señorita," the fairer guard walked into, arguably the more professional one, holding what looked to be a expensive looking shopping bag. "El jefe lo invita a una salida nocturna. Aqui está tu vestimenta requerida." He placed the shopping bag by the doorway. Miss, boss invites you to a night out. Here's your required attire.
Before he could leave, Quinn called him over. "Creo que tu amigo dejo algo." I think your friend left something. She pointed down to the cellphone under the table.
"Ay, si. Gracias, senorita," he walked over and picked it up before leaving and closing it behind him once more, as if he was scared to get close to her.
Quinn rose a brow, then walked over to the shopping bag, picking it up and placing it on the mahogany table by the wall. There was a card, held up to the top of the bag by pieces of white tissue paper. She picked up the paper, reading the neat handwriting scribbles across the center.
Vamos a bailar.
-VP
"We are going dancing tonight." She muttered as she translated the text. "VP." She then dug through the tissue paper, pulling out the cloth underneath it. It was a small, skimpy black dress that she begrudgingly huffed at the thought of having to kick-ass in. There was more in there, some kind of lacy black material. She pulled out a black lace lingerie bodysuit, rolling her eyes at its incredible unnecessariness. Then she reached into the bag once more, pulling out a small shoe box that held a pair of high heels.
She then reached up and pressed on her earpiece.
"Looks like I'm going dancing tonight," she said unenthusiastically as she looked over the white card with the message.
"What?" Steve questioned.
"Running the initials VP on any mafia connected crimes." Sam professionally told them.
"He's taking me to a club or something," Quinn answered to Steve. "I told them I was a dancer."
"Do you know how to dance?"
"No, but I will wing it," Quinn said before beginning to change.
"Do you know the location?" Steve asked
"No, Rogers. He gave me heels, lingerie, a necklace and a dress. No map anywhere." She sardonically told him.
"Hold on," Steve said. "Lingerie?"
"Yes sir," Quinn looked at herself in the mirror, examining her appearance in the said lingerie."Hm," Steve simply radioed back. "You do know what that is, right?" Quinn asked, paying barely any mind to the conversation, realizing that maybe the clothing wasn't so useless after all as she admired the way it flattered her body.
"Of course," Steve snapped back.
"I'd like to discuss your computer's search history, Cap," Sam, who had been eavesdropping, suddenly chimed in. Quinn gave a short chuckle at this.
"I'm not understanding this code, Quinn." Sam said.
Quinn spoke once more after getting into her dressing. "It's clearly communicating a protocol for the exchange. A lot of these words would make sense."
Quinn stepped into the high heels, finding that they fit fairly perfectly on her. She then stood in front of the mirror once more, making sure her long hair covered the side of her face where the earpiece was.
"I don't know why he would bring me along for the exchange, but if it's supposed to be happening tonight then, they'll lead me right to the mission." She told them. "Sam, just get me anything you can on this VP guy."
"Will do."
"Be careful, Quinn. This might be a trap. Remember there are people after you." Steve said to her.
"How could I forget?" Quinn uttered.
_______
"Alright, Quinn. Vicente Picarro is our guy." Sam told Quinn through her earpiece as she still sat waiting up in the hotel room, bored, by herself. "Arrested five years ago for importing hard drugs into the U.S., but escaped prison after one year of his 49 year sentence. Also suspected of running a prostitution ring, illegal weapons brokering and loan sharking--honestly the list goes on--"
"--yeah, I think I copy," Quinn said as she sprawled out on the pristinely made bed, stretching her feet up so her soles faced the ceiling. "Guys, I've been sitting, trapped in this hotel room for three hours. I'm starving." She complained as she stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the view in front of her. The sun was setting behind the horizon, the shadows of coconut trees rustling and the light sparkling on the ocean almost distracting her completely.
"I'm sure the mob boss will provide a nice meal for you," Sam returned.
"Yeah. After he sells me to the highest bidder," Quinn uttered flatly as she walked away from the window, sitting back down at the bed.
The door then opened, one of the guards coming in to speak with her again. Seemingly recovered from the earlier interaction, the fair skinned guard was stoic-faced as he poked his head in.
"Senorita. Hay un carro esperandote abajo." He told her. Miss. There is a car waiting for you downstairs.
"Bueno," she responded quickly, affixing her hair over her ear as she stood up and slipped back into her heels. She then was walked down the hallway, into the elevator and through the lobby by the four uniformed men.
As she walked through the lobby, towards the entrance doors of the hotel, "over your right shoulder," Steve's voice came lowly through the earpiece. Quinn glanced in the general direction, seeing him standing to the right of the double doors, pretending to talk on the phone. She got a solid glimpse of his new undercover aesthetic, a collared shirt, rolled up at the forearms, tucked into a pair of very well fitting jeans. Clearly Sam dressed him in these situations. He looked much younger. Quinn didn't mind it.
She continued on walking forward, hoping that her disguise, the trusty wig with the bangs and the very bold red lipstick she wore was enough to hide her identity. It seemed to be, though, as she could tell everyone was staring, but not because they recognized her. It was mostly because of the very expensive dress she was wearing.
Stepping down the front stairs of the hotel, a black Rolls Royce sitting there, seemingly waiting for her. Fairly impressed with how this mafia kept out of prison while keeping up such a high profile. Subtlety seemed to be a foreign concept.
One guard opened the door for her.
Climbing into the car, she was shocked at how much space there was in the car. A driver, again, in the same uniform that again, lacked subtlety, sat in the front, another guard beside him.
"Adonde vamos?" She asked the two as the driver begun to pull the car out from the hotel driveway. Where are we going?
"El lugar favorito del jefe en Punta Cana," the guard simply answered, so matter-of-factly, almost as if it had been rehearsed.
Quinn peered into the side mirror, seeing a car tailing them, quite possibly occupied by the other three guards from before. She felt like some kind of celebrity, or politician--royalty almost.. She couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Something in her gut told her that there were things she didn't know. Her anxiety crawled up to it's peak as she got closer and closer to whatever dance club destination it would be.
She knew she had to keep her cool, though. She had to tell herself that this was no different from the heists and robberies she used to pull off with ease. Only this time, she was dealing with much more dangerous targets.
Upon arriving to the club, however, it was clear that these men were experts at pulling off these deals. Club del Cielo looked more like a fancy five-star lounge by the beach, unassuming and not at all a place where suspicious activity would ever take place.
"Estamos aqui, Senorita," the driver said as he pulled up to the front of the club's entrance. It wasn't the loud, rave-like nightclub that Quinn expected. The doorman opened up her door and she found the guards immediately on her trail as she walked up the stairs.
Inconspicuously glancing over her shoulder, she could see the glimpse of a shadow walk through the side of the club, but not without meeting her gaze and sending a nod of assurance. It eased her soul a little bit, knowing that Rogers was never far behind.
She was greeted warmly by the ushers that stood along the entrance, glancing at the guards behind her and seemingly understanding the situation. Clearly, this really was the boss's favorite place in Punta Cana.
As she walked into the swanky club, classy and sleekly designed, Quinn took in the crowd that stood around the room, nearly all of them holding drinks in their hands and conversing as music played throughout. It was just crowded enough to the point where Quinn didn't stick out like a sore thumb and for that, she was thankful.
Quinn, then noticing that there were no longer footsteps trailing behind her, noticed that the guards had left her be, spreading out throughout corners of the club, as if they were bouncers, but she knew that they were only watching her.
"Senorita," a server of the club, dressed in all black approached her then beckoning her over to lead her to a booth in the corner, apparently reserved for her.
Meanwhile, across the room, was Steve, sitting at the bar once more. All he could do was glance over at Quinn every few minutes, as she sat at the booth, sipping on what looked like a margarita. She almost looked normal and he begun to wonder what it would have been like if he had met her under different circumstances. Undeniably so, he cared about this person, not because he felt responsible for her, but because he firmly knew that she was the best of them.
As she began to feel antsy, Quinn couldn't help but shake her leg and tap her fingers on the table, she was unsure of when the boss would get there. All she wanted to do was go over to where Rogers sat, because that would make her feel safest, in more ways than one.
"Senorita," a voice then entered the picture, blocking her whole view of the setting in front of her. The boss stood there, another fresh cigar in his hand as he went ahead and sat beside her in the booth. "El vestido es perfecto." He objectively eyed her, lingering on her legs as his hand freely sat atop of her thigh. The dress is perfect.
Quinn gave a dumb giggle, "gracias."
"Mas bebidas. Muy fuerte," the boss called out to the waiter.
"Estas tratando de emborracharme?" Quinn seductively rose a brow at the man, almost coughing as he reeked of cigar smoke. Are you trying to get me drunk?
"Why that would just be indecent of me," he said, in a thick accent, his face inches from hers.
Quinn had to push aside all of the discomfort she felt in that moment. She couldn't crack.
It was clear the boss was curious about her, Quinn knew that he was very wary of her. He, then, however, stood up out of the booth, seemingly waiting for her to follow.
"Yes?" Quinn asked as he expectantly stared at her.
"We are here to dance, no?" He rose a brow at her, putting out his cigar and holding out a hand to her.
Quinn had to oblige, knowing fully well that she didn't know the first thing about dancing. She was anything but a dancer, but just as she had done that whole time, she had to wing it. Standing from the booth, she wiped her steadily sweaty hand on her dress. The heat she felt building up from the nervousness inside of her was seriously making her sweat.
Out on the densely packed dance floor, however, where couples stood and swayed to the classic tango music. The lighting dimmed just then, becoming a very low red fluorescent light that made everything hazy and vivid at the same time. In the middle of the dance floor, she was sure that Steve's eyes had lost her.
The boss then grabbed hold of her waist, gripping her hand with a very specific intensity. The wariness radiated off of him and Quinn could feel it. She knew that she was quite possibly figured out.
As she stared up at the older man however, seeing so much history in the wrinkles and creases of his skin, sunspots and even some scars that communicated a certain danger and power. It didn't help Quinn's anxiety. She was surrounded.
"What's the matter?" He asked her. "Don't feel shy."
Quinn felt talked down, too. He was far too smug. Clearly, she had a part to play in his scheme that evening.
"I said I was a dancer. I didn't say I was a very good one," Quinn uttered to him, trying to keep up the character.
"You also didn't say that you're a threat to my evening," he venomously spoke, his voice almost a whisper, but that charismatic smile still on his face. His hand then gently came up, his fingers brushing over her cheek before hooking the hair that covered her earpiece right over her ear. Without breaking the awfully tense eye contact, he pulled her earpiece right from her ear and threw it down on the ground.
Quinn knew that there was no longer any point in hiding. He knew who she was. "How naive of you to think that I would not recognize who you are." He whispered into her ear as they continued to sway to the music. "You underestimated us, Senorita Rivera." He continued to speak into her ear as she stared over at one of his guards right over his shoulder. The guard, the fair-skinned who'd been hovering over her, was standing across the way, at one of the corners of the room. He only shot her that same stoic look, to which she returned with a glower.
"So," she couldn't act intimidated, so she pulled herself together and looked him in the eye again, "did you know the whole time?"
"I knew you were too intelligent to be just another dancer from America." He told her, not missing a sway to the beat.
"Thanks," Quinn uttered sarcastically. "So where are the hostages?"
"Probably already on their plane back to Colombia."
Quinn was confused.
"What?" She asked.
"The deal already went through, Senorita," he gave her a smug smile. "Where do you think I was all afternoon?"
The thought of the jefe and his group having all their weapons back frightened her.
He continued to glare at her intensely, despite continuing to dance amongst that glowing crowd of red. "You've forced me to speed up my plan, Miss Rivera." He calmly began. "In any other case, anyone who would stand in my way would end up dead at the bottom of the Caribbean."
"So what am I still doing here?" Quinn asked through gritted teeth, her grip growing tight on his hand and on his shoulder.
This fleeting semblance of fear appeared in his eyes as his hand twitched inside of hers. "Well, you fell right into my lap." He smiled, satisfied with where he had her. "Turns out there are people who will pay a large amount of money for the greatest weapon."
"Me."
Quinn's heart sunk down to her stomach, then realizing that she had to find another plan. Her face could not hide her feelings, and it put a smile on the man's face and as the song begun to reach it's crescendo.
She knew it must've been the same organization from Romania. Quinn realized that there must've been eyes on her everywhere. As she looked around the room, hardly able to see anything above the heads of the people in the crowd, she knew she had to comply.
"You better come with me, Miss Rivera." The boss said to her.
"And what if I don't?" She glared at him, staring contemptuously as her hands warmed up.
"Then everyone in this very club will be killed." He told her, with absolute finality. "I'm sure you wouldn't want that."
So Quinn put her hands down and followed him away from the crowd, towards a doorway in the wall. Two of his guards that stood by it followed behind them as they walked inside, into a private room. The room was just as dark and dim and sleek as the rest of the club, complete with lavish sofas and a bed. The door was closed behind them by the guards and Quinn stood still, near the door. She knew she couldn't pull any fast moves. She couldn't jeopardize everyone on the other side of that door, especially not Steve.
"So, who am I being sold to?" Quinn asked, trying to hide any sense of fear in her.
The boss turned his head to glance back at her as he stood in the middle of the room, commanding the space. "You'll soon find out."
Quinn watched as the two guards behind him pushed aside a bookshelf in the far left corner of the room. It opened up to a hidden corridor, a staircase that seemed to descend downwards to the fate that awaited her.
"After you," the boss beckoned for her to go through the secret passage.
Quinn stood there for a second, but she knew she didn't have a choice. She just needed to find some way to outsmart these people. She just wished she could talk to Rogers, tell him to evacuate the building so that she could fight off these men easily, but given the loud chattering crowd and the music she could still hear from outside, the club was still full of people who were being held at gunpoint and none of them knew it.
Walking down the staircase that lead to some kind of basement, she could hear the footsteps of the men behind her. Then, upon landing at the bottom, there was a lineup full of men, similar uniforms to that of the ones from the Romania mission. She knew it.
Quinn found herself standing between two walls of men: the mafia and the organization that had it out for her. The boss then grabbed her upper arm, Quinn shooting him an annoyed glare as he only tightened his grip.
"So there are more of you," Quinn observed, speaking towards the man that stood only feet in front of her, holding a big silver briefcase as the eight men behind him pointed guns their way.
"More than you know," the briefcase-holding man told her. "Debilitate her." He ordered.
Quinn then flinched upon seeing the familiar weapon that had cancelled her powers before, but before she could do anything, one of the men pointed at her and shot, a dart going straight into her shoulder. She reached up, growling furiously as she pulled the dart from her skin, throwing it down to the ground with a shatter.
"Alright," the boss said as he let go of her, "we brought the woman. Now hand over the payment."
"Tell your men to stand down and evacuate everyone from the building. We don't need to attract any attention," the man who held the briefcase, stoic-faced and unabashedly demanding, ordered the boss.
The older man looked hesitant, suspiciously glaring at Quinn who only shook her arm out of his grasp and looked away. He then looked to one of the guards standing behind him and gave a simple nod.
The guard then placed a finger on his earpiece, in clear English, ordering, "stand down. Evacuate the building, now."
The uniformed leader also glanced back to his right hand man, who went out through the backdoor, seemingly to ensure if this order to stand down had actually gone through.
"The payment," the boss then turned back towards the briefcase-holding leader. "Now."
"Hand her over and I'll hand it over," the man said as he stepped up.
Quinn, never in her life feeling more like an object, was pulled forward by the boss and she was simultaneously exchanged with the briefcase. The man, immediately then turned her around and handcuffed her wrists behind her back.
"Try anything and we're sticking you in a freezer." He threateningly uttered to her as he did.
She could only stay quiet, rolling her eyes at the stupid threat. The boss was currently opening the briefcase, looking down at the contents of it with a satisfied grin.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you," he said as he closed the briefcase once more and handed it to one of his men.
The man only gave a nod, "safe travels."
The boss and his men then made their walk towards the door behind them. He stared at Quinn as he passed by. "Good luck, Senorita Rivera."
Quinn kept up her glare of fury, "yeah, you too." She meant that with absolute sincerity. She knew that he would need it.
The mafia disappeared out through that basement's exit door. Quinn wondered where it lead.
"The evacuation is finished, lieutenant," the guard who had left came back down the descent of stairs.
"Okay," the lieutenant, holding onto Quinn's forearm, turned them around so that they could go out the same exit door. "Call down the jet."
"The jet," Quinn rose a brow at the man. "Person you're working for must be pretty high up there, huh?"
The man caught her gaze and gave a slightly alarmed reaction, as if Quinn's guess wasn't wrong. She could feel her fingertips tingling with heat, now knowing the secret to her powers--knowing how to fight anything that tried to keep them down. But she wasn't ready to strike just yet. She had to know more.
"Be quiet," he seriously said to her.
"The matching uniforms don't really help your case either. Very--official. A little too militaristic." Quinn confidently spoke as she stood making these observations. Watching the expression of the man that stood beside her, him clearly not the type able to hide his emotions.
"Who do you work for?" Quinn finally asked, stepping closer to the man, feeling her hands getting warmer and warmer behind her back, the tingling heat crawling up her forearms.
"I don't think you're in any position to be interrogating me," the man didn't back down, however, clearly putting all of his trust in the serum.
"Yeah?" Quinn rose a brow at him as he looked at her with a suspicious gaze. The dark-eyed man narrowed his eyes at her as she stepped even closer to him. "Well, I think I disagree."
Quinn then broke through her handcuffs and the seven different guards drew their dart guns at once. Even in the swiftness of the moment, her grabbing the lieutenant and placing him in front of her and allowing him to take all of the darts, she pointedly noticed that they weren't there to kill her.
She sent her elbow down onto the back of the man's neck, knocking him unconscious with a loud grunt and tossing him down to the ground in front of her. Then, the guards standing between her and the exit door drew real guns, aiming them right at her.
As she drew flames from her palms, however, allowing them to hover in the air threateningly, they all stood idly. It was clear they were all unsure of what to do, their main source of orders and demands currently passed out on the floor.
"If you're smart, you'll stand down," Quinn told them, in her fighting stance, making eye contact with each of the guards pointing their guns at her.
The lieutenant's right hand man was clearly unsure of what to do. He looked young and unsure, his deer-in-headlights expression only growing more and more as he stared at her, then down at her flamed-up hands, then at the guards beside him.
"Stand down," Quinn repeated herself, knowing no other way, but to go peacefully and hope that things would turn out okay. It was clear that these men, tasked or not, did not want to kill her.
The lieutenant's right hand man lowered his gun and the other men followed suit. Quinn, eyes still intensely narrowed at the men as they re-holstered their guns, watched as they were ready to move out.
"Don't forget this one," Quinn utterred, glancing down at the unconscious man stirring awake on the floor, as she placed her hands back down to her sides.
"Lieutenant," the right hand man tried to wake the guy, but when the man would barely awaken, he and another one of the guards simply pulled him off of the ground. The men kept on glancing up at her, seemingly checking if she would try to pull any fast moves.
Quinn just stood there, crossing her arms across her chest to show them that she really was in no mood to fight.
So the men opened up that exit door and were ready to get to their getaway car, but as they pulled their lieutenant up and out of that secret door out to the outside world, they were only met with a wall of agents, holding them at gunpoint.
Steve and Sam stood by, sharing a satisfied look as they watched the unknown officers get cuffed by all the agents that they had called in. The second Quinn had disappeared from their sights and the place was evacuated, Steve knew that they needed to surround the place.
Rogers took a sigh of relief upon seeing Quinn herself emerge from the secret exit. She looked exhausted, but she was okay and that was the most important.
"I'll wait in the car," Sam said to Steve as he also spotted Quinn. He knew that Rogers would want to talk to her. He always did.
Steve gave Sam a nod as Quinn approached Steve. She was still glancing over her shoulder, looking curiously at the agents who were loading the uniformed officers into the back of a passenger truck.
"Called in some backup, I see," Quinn met his gaze. He could see how exhausted she was from the look in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked softly, not wanting to berate her with questions.
She nodded, "yeah. Just tired."
"I know." Steve nodded.
"Where's the mafia?" Quinn asked.
"We have a team intercepting their boat." Steve told him.
She gave a small relieved nod.
"You should be proud of yourself. Not a single casualty, both parties reprimanded."
"I don't know." Quinn gave a sheepish, humorless chuckle. It was clear that she was taking the fact that the situation had been escalated because of the organization's bounty on her to heart. Steve wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, not in the slightest, but Quinn didn't give him the chance.
"We should get out of here," she then walked past him, towards the car that awaited them.