Zenith's Promise (The Zenith Series Book 7) Read online

  Zenith’s Promise

  The Zenith Series Book Seven

  Leanne Davis

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Next in Series

  Excerpt from Zenith Falling

  Other Books by Leanne Davis

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN you.” Ross Karahan averted his face from his mother. She was staring at the open casket of his brother, her younger son, gazing vacantly at his dead body. Her hands shook and her eyes watered incessantly. There were no sounds and his brother’s body was covered with blankets. Only his young face remained intact through death.

  “I’m sorry.” Ross’s voice cracked. He whispered it often enough; once, twice, a hundred, no, a thousand times. It didn’t matter, he could never say it enough. There would never be a string of words that could manage to change the ultimate reality. It should have been him.

  Not Roland.

  Ross was the screw-up, the loser without any focus or goals. The rebel without a fucking cause, right? Always. He’d been the bane of his parents’ existence since he first started walking. He didn’t listen. Couldn’t learn. He pushed and prodded them. Unlike Roland, who glided through life so aware of his boundaries and always so careful to stay within them, Ross would deliberately knock them down and destroy them.

  As he continued to do even as a teen.

  His appetite for destroying and pushing and prodding was gone now. There was really nothing left when you stared into the face of your dead brother. He was so ghastly pale. His lips were overdone in a red that was too stark. Ross expected him to sit up and scare them all with a loud “boo” before he announced it was all a prank. He was just kidding. He wasn’t really dead. Not gone. Certainly not forever.

  In truth, however, he was. No more life, no more energy, no more warmth. Just an empty shell that was routinely embalmed and painted in a futile effort to pretend the horror of this lifeless body didn’t exist. Ross would never have chosen this fiasco for a dead loved one. It was far better to burn a body to ashes. No one could stare down at his oddly colored face and remember the warmth that once glowed there or the vibrant color of his skin that pulsated with life. Ross was anticipating a long breath to rise in his brother’s chest before escaping his lungs. He actually could see Roland as he smirked and smiled, fluttering his eyes at Ross before ordering him to quit staring at me, asshole!

  But Roland stayed frozen, lying on his back forever. His waxy body and makeup would eventually fade, decomposing and putrefying, no matter how hard anyone tried to avoid letting nature be nature. Ross didn’t see any reason for that.

  Ross did a lot of thinking about nature in the days since Roland died. He thought about unseen forces. Decisions. Mistakes.

  Consequences.

  “Come on, Franny, let’s go.” The hand came around and gripped his mother’s arm, gently tugging on it and taking her to his side. Only then did his father, Karl, glance at Ross with a look of repugnance when their gazes eventually met.

  His mother shared the same level of disgust and hatred. Ross deserved the blame. Along with the frenzied, vile hatred. But she still voiced her truest thought to him. His father hadn’t spoken to him since the moment they learned Roland was dead.

  They both turned as they accused him, and their hot, steaming looks of rage made Ross step back. “You took him there. It was all your fault. It should have been you, not him.” His father said it first, but his mom echoed it many times since then.

  With a snap of the fingers, they knew that. How did they find out so quickly? No details. No explanation. They just both knew.

  “How could you do this to him? To us?” his mom bitterly demanded. How many times? Her hiccupping sobs punctuated his mother’s grief. Surely, they would not have collapsed into tears at the news of the death of their elder son.

  Just the younger one. Roland.

  Roland deserved to live a long life. He was the one his parents would have chosen to live if they had the power. They would no doubt have picked Roland if only they were given a choice.

  And the one fact he firmly understood now at the ripe old age of fourteen was that they were completely right. Ross killed his brother, and now he was the one left alive. He shouldn’t be here. His parents were well aware of that and they didn’t want him.

  Chapter 1

  JODY LASSITER STRAINED HER neck to catch a glimpse above all the heads that were bobbing around her. As usual, it was a useless endeavor. Her limited height never failed to handicap her in crowds. At barely five feet without shoes or socks, like her mother, Jody often failed to see or reach most of the things the average adult could. Now, in the crowded baggage claim area of Sea-Tac International Airport, Jody was reminded of that.

  She was waiting for another undiscovered musician. Actually, he was just another client for the internship program that she and her cousin, Karlee, operated together and technically worked for. They were the people who decided whom to include in the entire program. Both of their parents were rich, which gave them infinite opportunities. Being blessed with parents who were mega-wealthy benefited both of them and Jody totally took advantage of those opportunities. She never believed she deserved it at all. Despite her efforts to work hard, she began with privilege and started from an elevated level that few could manage to attain. Being born into it was no indicator of her merit, since she never earned it. Thankfully, it didn’t bother her in the least when anyone quite rightly pointed that out to her.

  At twenty-six years old, she ran a thriving corporation with her twenty-seven-year-old cousin. Duh. Of course, they couldn’t accomplish it on their own. Their combined families provided all the press-power, stardom and money required. They simply took their chance and ran with it.

  Grateful to do a job she so loved while living in her favorite city, Seattle, Jody also saw and experienced a downtown life few could touch. Growing up in the penthouse of a high-rise building owned by her parents, now she and Karlee lived in another building owned by them. Their condo was again, nothing either of them earned but something she had plenty of access to. She also had a bodyguard. At all times. Security was an unrelenting factor of both of their lives. Next Generation Consulting was a business her parents operated, which reeled in ridiculous amounts of money from the corporate world. Her uncle, Karlee’s stepfather, was the famous Rob Williams, who was known for leading the hugely successful rock band, Zenith.

  Zenith.

  That was the primary reason she found herself at the airport today. The source of her job and her access to fame and fortune in the music world stemmed from Zenith’s success.

  Her uncle appointed Jody and Karlee to manage his pet project. Rooting out and finding the most unknown and talented musicians presented quite a challenge. They would bring them to Seattle, compliments of Zenith’s Promise, to allow them access to all kinds of avenues where they could play their music and eventually earn a living at it. No guarantees for anything were given to any musician they brought in and the final results varied. Some joined local community bands or church choirs, while others became soloists and pursued careers that made millions. It really happened like that to two of their artist picks.

  Sometimes a small, mod
erate income was all that was desired by a flautist, or a singer longing to make a worldwide splash, but Jody loved to facilitate and expose true talent. She sought different artists who could stand out from the others. Her job was finding an avenue for people to earn money from their special talent. Passion or hobby, she saw her role as one who created the channels and opportunities for ultimate success. She helped make careers for clever people who preferred to follow their hearts and do what they were meant to do.

  Jody lacked any musical, artistic or creative talent. More than one client inquired as to what she played. She’d reply by cracking up and saying the keyboard, her computer keyboard. Her brain was hard-wired in economics, money, and math. Business savvy was her super power. As a mini-version of her father, Nick Lassiter, she must’ve inherited his computer skills gene. However, Jody wasn’t content to sit behind the computer all day. She needed plenty of movement and dynamic interactions with others. A social creature, she hated the isolation required for coding or hacking. She could do both with no problem. She was weaned on the computer like other kids who loved sports because their parents did, never mind their talent. Jody knew how to use her skills to make her days more dynamic, interesting, and exciting.

  Heavenly was how she described her life, to be honest. She loved almost all the parts of her job and her life.

  Including right now.

  Now she waited in the crowd for Ross Karahan, a talented drummer, to disembark the plane he took from Indiana. Her stomach fluttered with excitement and butterflies. The giddy feeling of anticipation inside her always accompanied meeting someone new. A new musician promised an entirely new journey for her to witness and facilitate. It changed according to whatever she might entail and she thrived on those dynamic changes. She saw how her dad worked as a business executive, doing the same core function of the corporation he started when he was in his mid-twenties. His unmitigated success and youth combined to make Nick Lassiter a mogul and he created his own empire that now included landmark buildings and real estate in downtown Seattle. By the time Nick met her mom, Joelle, the city lay at his feet.

  But he still credits Joelle for showing him how best to enjoy his luxurious world.

  The irony? Her mother was formerly married to the lead singer of the small, struggling indie rock band named Zenith before it skyrocketed to success.

  Yes, the same Zenith.

  It was a very long story that involved the passage of years spent drinking and using drugs and physical deterioration. The band eventually split up and Joelle divorced the alcoholic lead singer, Rob Williams. Rob finally sobered up and made a whole new life for himself, including the revamping of Zenith. Rob also married Nick’s sister, Rebecca Randall, who was also known as Karlee’s mom.

  Oh, how deliciously scandalous and sordid Jody found it. She loved the story when she first heard about it in her teens and finally put all the adults in her life together.

  Her dad once hated Rob for what he did to her mom, Joelle. But now? Rob was Jody’s favorite uncle. She adored Uncle Rob of Zenith.

  Jody loved working with Rob and for him, almost like a talent scout but different. The business was their own creation. A mentorship designed to break down most of the barriers for talented musicians who might otherwise have no clear path to success. They would provide the necessary resources and a space to make it all happen.

  Now? A fabulous drummer from Indiana, Ross Karahan, submitted a recording along with some extremely terse answers to the questionnaire. The sparse answers about himself received no clarity via a photo or any visual of him playing. Most applicants uploaded videos of themselves playing their instrument of choice or doing a live feature to enhance the application process. Not this guy. He used a black screen and shot himself smashing away at the drums. There was something visceral, almost rage-filled in the way he played. She and Karlee were slightly unsettled by it, but agreed that Rob and Spencer should review him. They immediately told her to offer him a spot.

  Most applicants all but begged for help, pleading for a chance, a position, asking for Rob or Spencer Mattox to just listen to them play one time. If only they could be heard, their talent would speak for itself.

  Literally, most of the candidates begged for any recognition. Some of their stories tugged at Jody’s heartstrings. That was the only part she detested about her job. Sifting through the desperate stories, all of them seeking hope and help for a talent that might, if given a chance, soar in the world. Changing their lives with the chance to have a career, earning money and fame or better yet, in very rare occasions, to completely alter the culture. They could tweak it. Adding true majesty to a new discipline of music. Those were the times when Jody felt totally fulfilled and found true purpose for her time here on earth. Again, maybe it was because she had zero, zip, nada in the talent department. So she found her thrills vicariously by being a partner, or foundation for others to expose their talents. Every new client she met filled her with zest and vigor at the possibility they could be the next world-changer, even if they only succeeded in changing another person’s life. Even if it were just her own.

  Ugh. The plane was almost an hour late.

  She tapped her foot. Rob was especially excited about meeting this Ross guy. She didn’t know why, but he asked her three times this week if Ross was expected to arrive here today. Yes. Yep. The guy didn’t back out. Few would have.

  Jody held up one of those cardboard signs with Ross’s name spelled out on it. Feeling like an extra in a bad movie, she fidgeted from one foot to the other, occasionally hopping up a little higher to catch a glimpse above the crowd. Why was the airport so busy today? How could the guy find her? She quit trying to be taller and abandoned her wishes to become a giraffe before ducking down and weaving through the bodies and arms, sliding past them, crouching and rising while spotting a new route to pursue. Knowing her bodyguard would find it difficult to follow her, Jody continued to wend her way in an agile manner. An entire private school waited there to meet several of their returning students from the foreign exchange program. No wonder it was so crowded.

  Threading her way forward, she was all but swimming through the tightly packed bodies. Finally, she reached the edge of the crowd and caught a view of the luggage carousel where Ross’s plane was scheduled to unload. She barely found an opening as she all but elbowed her way in, flinging her head back, tossing her hair across her shoulders, and smacking the guy behind her right in the face. She cringed as she gave him a look and repeated, “Sorry. Sorry… I didn’t mean to get you.” That often happened to her as well. Being short, when she flung her hair around, she was often well below most people’s chins and her hair landed in their faces. He scowled at her and grunted before turning and stomping away.

  Well, fine. She apologized. Not like she meant to be such a jerk. She shrugged. Some people liked to be pissed off and were just pissy in general. She preferred to believe that people initially were caring or courteous or polite but got cross and annoyed after being treated otherwise. She was justified for having a quick, hot temper.

  Fine. Poor guy was wasting his life by getting angry at small stuff. He was simply ruining his own mood and his own life. Small-minded and petty and not worth her time. She flung her hair back around.

  Jody’s hair hung in a thick mass to her middle back. Ridiculously thick, like a freaking horse’s tail, it was that thick. She got it from her mom who had the same hair. Exactly. How the hell could something so awful be so hereditary? Why do some people show no resemblance to their family genes or maybe look like a distant cousin or an uncle once removed? While others, her, for instance, were freaking clones of their parents? Namely, her mother.

  Wow, did they ever look alike. She rolled her eyes. The same reaction was observed each and every time people saw her with her mother, either separately or together.

  Cue the responses:

  “Oh, you look like twins.”

  “Oh, my God! You look just alike.”

  “Wow. It’s
obvious who your mother is.”

  “Who’s the mom and who’s the daughter?”

  That one particularly made her teeth grind. First, no shit. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see the resemblance. It was that uncanny. So it wasn’t new or like she and her mother and everyone else never discussed it or marvelled at it over the years, never mind the endless comments. But asking who was the daughter? Fricking A! She was obviously. By a good twenty-six years. Yeah. Not like mom had her at age eighteen. No. She was now fifty-one. Good lord, Jody hoped at age twenty-six she didn’t look fifty. Yes, her mother aged well… but come on.

  So that was her main peeve with the hair. It was so freaking thick and desirable and the source of comment that, sigh, she kept it long. Despite her annoyance and the unbearable time suck she invested in its care. Some days though, she was determined to all but cut it off.

  Not today. Back to Ross. She adjusted her shoulders, now that she made her way to the front of the crowd. Adjusting the sign in her hands, she strained to glance around. Was that him? The dude with the lanky figure, leather jacket, man-bun and soulful glasses? Or maybe he was the older guy, kind of pot-bellied, but still handsome, and well dressed? Maybe barely into his thirties? Or… could it be that guy? Then…

  She stopped dead when she saw a guy that was already looking back at her.

  A shiver traveled down her spine. Oh. So this was the guy. Damn. All the annoying things she detested happened at once: butterflies in her stomach, blood boiling, skin getting hot and cold and clammy, her breath hitching and her heart thumping. Crap.