The police building was tall with steep steps and pillars on either side of the heavy wooden door. Most windows had white blinds pulled low, shading the inside from the heat of the Californian sun.
She climbed the steps, a full-scale war going on with her emotions. Part of her wanted to leave Carter to rot in jail. He was a scheming bastard who’d used his charm to worm his way into her heart and her panties.
The angel on Leah’s shoulder raised her eyebrows in a told-you-so kind of way.
The devil said it wasn’t over yet, though his tail flicked in irritation.
“Should’ve stayed in Pierce,” she muttered, pushing through the doors.
She walked up to the reception desk. “I’m here to see Carter Harris.”
“And you are?” The officer didn’t look up from his computer screen.
“I’m his lawyer. I’d like to see him now, please.”
He looked up. “Carter Harris? The biker just brought in?”
“Yes.”
“Got himself lawyered up quick.”
“And that is relevant to his case how?” She scowled.
“Just saying.” He stood. “This way.”
She followed him down a corridor and through two locked doors. He stopped at a room with a small sliding window in the door and a big silver lock.
He found a key and shoved it in.
“You want company in there, miss?”
“No.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Sure? He’s not a nice guy.”
“Yes. I’m sure.” She nodded at the door. “Let me in.” Damn it, it wasn’t like her to be so snappy with cops just doing their job, but her hackles were up.
He pushed the door open. “Holler if you need me.”
“I won’t need you.”
He huffed. “Well, if you do, I’ll be here.”
Carter was seated at a desk which was, along with two chairs, bolted to the floor. A high window with bars let in light, and in the corner was a toilet and tiny sink.
“Leah.” He stood.
“Sit down,” she said.
Of course, he didn’t.
“Shout when you’re done,” the officer said, then pointed at a camera in the corner. “Or give us a wave.”
“Thanks.”
He left, locking the door behind him with a loud clunk.
“You gotta get me outta here,” Carter said, holding out his hands, palms up. “Like really.”