Hi everybody, welcome to an extra Beefcake night. Let me tell you how difficult it was to get this man to my club's table for a one on one. I first called a friend of a friend on his whereabouts, of course I got zilch. So nice to have military contacts but of course when I truly needed them I got nothing. But one said to go to a contact of his, perhaps J.O.H.N. (his codename *rolls eyes*) would know something. So there I went in a plane with an unknown destination for me to end up on some far off base. Me, ms. I-don't-sport-for-fun-and-rather-read, had to strut through mud, climb various hills, swim a freakin' cold lake to reach J.O.H.N.. It felt like I had just survived a triathlon and was in severe need of oxygen. Damn was I out of shape ladies!! So there this guy was...and so not what I expected to find. He was very lean, like 5ft 8" and his look cut through me like an x-ray. My heart was in my throat and all he kept doing was sizing me up. I felt so not up to his standards, but anyway, he nodded, I followed and we went into this tent. I got the shivers of the silence and all he wrote down on a piece of paper was a name, he showed it to me and then burned it. WTF!! After that all I got was a "Goodbye Ms.Roodakker."
I went through days of torture for one freakin' name, I was so hoping this was going to be worth it! After 4 days of my personal physical challenge I got back and hooked me up on the WWW. To look up one Cindy Gerard. Though under tight deadlines and her own special OPS she hooked me up with Raphael Mendoza and ladies, it was so worth it. To meet such a fine male specimen in real life I would walk another jungle to get to him. He had to keep it brief but he left his mark on me *grin* I will always have a weakness for a man with a tattoo!
Mass Market Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: Pocket Star
(September 29, 2009)
Buy a copy ~here~
Date of Birth: 5-2-1977
• Age: 32
• Length: 5’9”
• Body build: muscular, fit, lean
• Hair: black
• Eyes: dark, dark brown
• Personality: multi-faceted. Funny, tender, yet serious and sarcastic
• Favorite weapon: Sig Sauer P226, AR-15 rifle
• Favorite outfit: jeans and t’s
• Turn on: blonds
• boxers or briefs: boxers
* Personal motto: get it done
Raphael Mendoza 101:
Hi Raphael, once again, thanks for taking the time and answering all these question to satisfy our curiosity!
You’re very welcome.
• Raphael, if it was your last day on earth, what would you do and who would you spent it with?
I’d make love with B.J. All day. All night.
• Do you have a favorite romantic setting?
Anywhere with my woman.
• Raphael, what are your pros and cons?
You expect me to answer that? Not gonna happen.
• Who was the last person you got in to a fight with and what was the reason?
I don’t fight, unless it’s for my life. Otherwise, I negotiate :o)
• What was the last movie you watched?
Some chick flick B.J. made me watch. Don’t remember the title but I remember what happened later :o)
• Where did you sleep last night?
Where I want to sleep every night. In our bed.
• What music do you like to listen to?
I’m a sucker for 80’s love songs
• What is your favorite snack food?
B.J. turned me on to apple walnut caramel pie. I could snack on it (and her) all night.
• Do you have any talents you would like to share?
I sing. Don’t laugh, but they don’t call me Choirboy for nothing.
• What are your plans for tomorrow?
It’s a work day. Plans are classified
Wooing the ladies with an excerpt:
This close, it wasn’t that difficult. The face that met hers, mere inches away was not a face she would expect to meet in a dark alley on the wrong side of a mission that was rapidly heading south. Wholesome was the word that came to mind. Altar boy angelic – if one could overlook the assault rifle.
The tattoo she’d caught a glimpse of on his upper arm appeared to be of a cross of some sort that did not, however, put her in mind of altars or boys. Neither did the gold crucifix that hung from his neck and lay against a broad chest so smooth it could have been waxed.
His eyes were dark, almost black, like the hair that he wore cut military close. His skin was caramel toned, his face clean-shaven and flawless but for a small, triangular scar that rode at the left corner of a full, sensuous mouth. She was used to assessing and cataloguing adversaries on the fly. What she wasn’t used to was thinking of the enemy in terms of disarmingly handsome – or that she would be ultra sensitive to the fact that he was plastered so tightly against her she could feel the heat radiating off his body like a pulse.
He wasn’t a big man – maybe five nine, five ten – but the body pressed against hers was as lean and hard as the Jeep at her back. The steely grip on her arm was capable of inflicting pain – yet he only used it to control her.
Something about him made her think he’d spent some time in the States. He was clean, his bearing disciplined and practiced. He knew exactly what he was doing, where his men were and how to take control. Situational awareness. Like a soldier. Like a merc, she thought and knew that alive or not, she was still in deep trouble.
Or worse, he could be on Chavez’s payroll – possibly police, maybe even paramilitary. Chavez wouldn’t take kindly to Eduardo passing along secret government information and would sure as hell want to stop the transaction.
But she knew how Chavez worked. If these were his men, she’d be bleeding out in the gutter by now. No questions asked.
So no, this detail had not been sent by Chavez. So … CIA maybe? This guy had the look the skills and the ‘no one can touch me’ attitude. And if not CIA, then a close equivalent. Bad asse with license to kill, thrill and wreak havoc wherever he decided havoc needed to be wreaked.
Which brought her back to the immediate problem. If he was CIA then someone, somewhere had screwed up royally because no way should one government agency interfere with another’s sting. Either way, his guns were still just as big and just as bad and she was still in just as much trouble because in her experience Spooks didn’t care about rules or diplomacy.
“Let’s back away from the Jeep, okay, querida? Easy now,” he warned in a voice that was as sultry as the night and lightly laced with a Spanish accent. Even though he spoke softly, however, there was no mistaking the order or the threat as he pressed the nose of the AK against her rib cage and with a firm grip on her upper arm, guided her away from the Jeep and, thankfully, several inches away from him.
He peered over the open driver’s side door then smiled when he spotted the shotgun. “Cute gun,” he said, like he was complimenting her wardrobe – which was feeling mighty damn inadequate when his dark gaze raked her body up and down before he shouldered around her and plucked the shotgun off the floor.
With hardly a backward glance, he tossed the gun out of reach then leaned in close and started patting her down.
She gritted her teeth, resigned to suffer pain and humiliation and rough hands. He surprised her again when he tugged her Glock out her waistband then made quick and painless work of searching her.
“I do like a woman who knows her weapons.” He glanced from the pistol to her face, smiled again as he pulled the earpiece out of her ear and tossed it away. “You have any other surprises, mi chica bonita?”
Excerpt chapter one and two ~here~
Cindy, one quick question. What was the best thing about meeting Raphael and writing up his story?
Rafe was a constant surprise. I knew he’d be a hot Latin lover and a heroic warrior but I didn’t know he’d have such depth of character. He constantly surprised me with his tenderness.
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Wild Black Betty:
1/5 oz Wild Turkey bourbon whiskey
1/5 oz Jack Daniels Tenessee whiskey
1/5 oz Southern Comfort peach liquer
1/5 oz grenadine syrup
1/5 oz Lime juice