Rated M for language, violence, and sexual content.

Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to check out my fic. I've been wanting to write one involving Brittana for a long time, and now I have the courage and time to do so. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters, only my own original ones.

It's a windy morning in Manhattan as I walk towards a small brownstone building with an inconspicuous sign reading, "Hale Detective Agency" inscribed above the door. I've only been working here for a few years but it's become like a second home to me.

As I enter, I can already see Mark through the glass window of his office door, on the phone, with an annoyed expression on his face. He's a little over six feet tall, slim, yet muscular, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. I'll admit he's handsome (although I would never say as much out loud), but he's just not my type.

Even though he's my boss, we're really close. His grandfather opened this agency in the 70's and the legacy was passed down to him after his father retired a few years ago. We both went to the police academy together and he called me up when there was an opening here.

Mark is one of the few people who can take my snarky comments in stride and reasons with me when I'm being stubborn. We sometimes go out for drinks and swap stories about our latest failures in the dating world.

I decide to check in with him first before heading to my office. I approach the door and knock lightly. Mark looks up and waves me in, holding up a finger to let me know he'll be finished in a second. When he hangs up, he still looks disgruntled.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"That was Smith, from the NYPD. We thought we had Black this time on a possible drug charge but he slipped away again. I wish we could catch this asshole already, Santana," Mark groans.

"Hey, I'm ready for this case to be over as much as you are. You know Black covers his tracks well."

Johnny Black. We've been try to shut his drug ring down for nine months now, but still no luck. Every time we get a lead either the evidence falls through or we can't trace the crime directly to Black. Catching some of his men here and there is great but we're trying to shut down the entire operation, and to do that we need to get to the source.

Amongst Mark's scattered papers on his desk lies a picture of Black. He's handsome I guess, in a rugged, bad boy sort of way. In the photo his hair is trimmed short in a buzz cut, with prickles of a full beard and mustache growing in over his prominent jaw. His dark brown eyes glint mischievously and he smirks slightly at the camera.

Just as Mark lets out another groan, his phone rings again. He answers it and is silent for a few moments. He starts smiling and grunts occasionally in approval. He hangs up soon after and gives me a huge grin.

"Puckerman got you in, " he says.

It takes me a moment to take in the magnitude of this statement, but afterwards I'm grinning just as big as Mark is. Noah Puckerman, fondly known as Puck, also works for Hale Detective Agency, but he's been undercover for the past three months as Johnny Black's personal driver. Black took a liking to Puck almost immediately, and asked him a few days ago if he knew of anyone who could be a bodyguard to his girlfriend, Brittany. Black specifically asked for a woman, not trusting a man to be around his girlfriend for such long periods of time.

Puck didn't hesitate talking me up, and after a few days of contemplating, Black agreed. With both of us snooping around Black's home, we're sure to uncover something eventually.

"This is great! When do I start?" I ask.

"Immediately. The sooner we take this guy down, the better. It would be helpful if you could get some information out of the girl while you're at it," Mark replies.

"I'll try. What name am I going by?"

"Carmen Velez. You're still 25, but you've been working for a security company for four years and come highly recommended," Mark says.

I nod and take the file Mark is handing me containing information on my new identity. I need to memorize this background story in case anyone should ever ask about my personal life. The file also contains information about Black, his recent activities, and a few scarce details on one Brittany S. Pierce.

"You guys couldn't find out much about this girl, huh?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"No, she's almost as elusive as Black. We're trying to figure out if she's connected to any of the crimes, that's another reason why we need you to get friendly with her. You can take the rest of the day and tomorrow off to get prepared, you start on Wednesday."

I nod and place the folder under my arm. After a few minutes of unrelated small talk with Mark, I'm walking back to my car, trying to imagine what's going to happen in the next few months.

The rest of the day and the next is spent mentally preparing myself for what's to come. I read over the file Mark gave me dozens of times until I feel confident that I've memorized it. I'm nervous, but mostly excited to have the chance to finally put an end to Black's crime spree.

Puck picks me up from my apartment the next day, on Black's orders. He hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him a few months ago, same ridiculous mohawk, same smug grin.

"What's up Carmen?"

"Just drive." I give him an eye roll for good measure.

He smirks even more, but starts the ignition and we're off. He briefs me on his observations about Black and warns me that although he's charming, his temper flares easily. Brittany however, from what he's seen of her, has been nothing but sweet.

"What does she look like?" I ask. I noticed there wasn't a picture of her in my file.

"Hot," Puck replies, while wiggling his eyebrows.

Typical Puck answer. Why did I even ask?

We arrive twenty minutes later at a large, tan house with three floors and a winding driveway. The front yard is neatly trimmed with a fountain placed in the middle. Once we reach the front of the house, I notice two sculptures of angels, one on either side of the staircase. They aren't like the sculptures I'm used to seeing on the rare Sundays that I'm at church with my abuela; these look menacing.

Puck kills the engine and surprisingly, walks around the car to open my door. Once I'm out, he escorts me up the stairs, and rings the door bell. Shortly after, a chubby older man, in what I assume is some sort of butler's outfit, opens the door. He nods his head at Puck and steps aside to let us in.

I don't have much time to look around as Puck leads me immediately down a side hallway and stops at a wooden door to our left.

"Now remember, just act natural. You'll be fine" he says.

I nod, then he knocks twice quickly, then twice again at a slower pace, before opening the door.

Standing before me is the Johnny Black, but I barely hear Puck's introduction. Next to Black is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she's smiling bashfully at me. My heart is pounding against my chest, I know they must hear it too, and it has nothing to do with meeting one of the most dangerous drug dealers in New York City.