I come from a close-knit family. Basque. Up Yerrington way. All four of my older brothers went to work on the family ranch. Me? I headed to Vegas the day I turned eighteen. What can I say? I don't like sheep.

I worked security, and I got good. Had my pick of the big, fancy new clubs. Then I got a little carried away with a kid counting cards,and it turned out he was some gangster's nephew. I decided I'd best get the hell out of town before uncle sent his buddies to visit me.

I took my money, threw my shit in my car and set out to make the best of what I had. Bought a top of the line truck, and went into the 'recovery' business.

Whether it's a vehicle somebody owes on, or something else altogether, for a price, I'll bring back whatever you ask for.