All the intel we’d gathered was difficult to wade through since we were getting mixed stories from our most reliable sources. Some were saying that it was Manuel Ramirez who had tried to make a move on us. Others said it wasn’t him, but the Irish. After the break-in at my office and everything we’d learned following that, I could believe it was my biological mother’s family fucking with me.

Ramirez was a pussy, but as Garret had said, the idiot was desperate. I could take him on single-handed if I needed to. The Irish were more cunning, had endless resources, and possessed no fear of the Vitucci name. With only rumors to go on, it was hard to determine who was behind the attempt on the warehouse.

I wasn’t just going to let it go, brush it off, and move on. I wanted answers and to deal with whoever had made a move on my territory.

Three days after getting back from California, as Pietro was overseeing the cameras going up in my office for Nova, things got even more complicated. My office was swept regularly for bugs, hidden microphones, and cameras. The Feds were always trying to grasp at something they could use against the Vitucci family, but those fuckers were just as dirty as we were.

While setting up the camera over my desk, the tech had found spy gear. The little device was so tiny that only someone who worked in the trade could recognize it. They were so high-tech, they were undetectable by the scanners we used to check for them. The technician had explained that it was set to broadcast on a live feed and the receiver had to be somewhere within the building, but it could transmit globally.

My first thought was CeCe, who still worked in the building. I’d wanted to keep her close to keep an eye on her. I’d had someone watching her during work hours, and several of my men had been following her to see where she went and who she spoke to.

After she’d left for the day, I had Pietro and the tech search her workstation. That had left them empty-handed, but I’d had them expand the perimeter and search the entire floor she worked on.

The receiver was found in a supply closet, behind the boxes of copy paper. But instead of destroying it, I told them to leave it where it was, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that we now knew someone was spying on me.

The tech had explained that the device only had a microphone and not a camera, but it was so sensitive that it could pick up the sound of a pin dropping in the next room. It would explain how they knew we would be out of town the weekend of Nova’s graduation since I’d spoken to her several times about the trip while in my office.

A search of the serial number on the receiver turned up no leads on who had purchased it, but I knew Ramirez was too stupid to know how to work or even install the little device. While I’d turned my full attention to the O’Brion family and learning their recent movements, I’d kept Garret on the task of finding Ramirez.