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Glancing around the room, Jackson asked, “When’s dinner? I was promised a steak.”

Jackson started to get to his feet again, but Jo grabbed his forearm and tugged him back to sitting. “Sit down. Your steak will be here soon.”

“Good, I’m starving.” Zach frowned at the empty breadbasket.

Logan tossed him the untouched roll from his own plate. “You’re always starving.”

“How many of those have you had?” Kat asked, tilting her chin towards Jackson’s empty glass and the growing collection of discarded nip bottles.

“Not nearly enough,” Jackson said with a smarmy grin that devolved into a glare at his empty rocks glass. “Who finished my drink?”

“You did,” Beckett said, his brows drawing together.

Jackson harrumphed and shook the ice in the glass. “Time for a refill.” He shoved away from the table, grabbing the glass in the process.

“Maybe it’s time to slow down,” Logan said, but if Jackson heard him, he didn’t give any indication.

Beckett dropped Kat’s hand and pressed a palm between his brother’s shoulder blades. “I’ll come with you.” And then they were gone, winding between tables on their way to the bar at the other end of the ballroom.

Kat frowned and took her seat next to Jo.

“You alright, babe?” Jo asked.

She nodded, but she kept her eyes on the twins, Beckett guiding Jackson through the crowd with that hand on his back, Gideon trailing behind at a respectful distance.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Beckett’s heart pounded in his chest as he led Jackson through the crowded ballroom, the empty rocks glass still clutched in his brother’s fist. Only a few minutes ago he’d been fucking ecstatic. Kat had gotten into a bidding war over him. She’d been jealous. And the way she’d looked at him, that kiss—

But then there was Jackson, loose-limbed and with the barest hint of a slur to his speech. Not enough that most people would notice—at least, he hoped not—but an unmistakable slur all the same. Enough that Kat had noticed. Enough that she’d questioned how much he’d already had to drink. He couldn’t explain the panic her question had set off inside his chest, his lungs constricting, sweat forming between his shoulder blades. All he knew was he had to get Jackson out of there, away from the questions.

How had he gotten that drunk that fast? Beckett and Kat were only in the bathroom for a few minutes. Unless he’d started drinking at the hotel, which wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. And then there were the empty nip bottles. How many of those had he thrown back when Beckett was distracted?

“Quit pushing,” Jackson grumbled, shaking off his brother’s hand as they left the ballroom for the less crowded reception area off the side of the grand room. His nose wrinkled as he glanced around. “This isn’t the bar.”

“We’re not going to the bar.”

Jackson sniffed. “Maybe you’re not.”

He moved to push past his brother, but Beckett caught him by the forearm, tugging him back. Jackson wobbled on his feet, just enough to be unsteady, not so much that anyone watching them would notice. Just like they wouldn’t notice the way Beckett’s pulse kicked into overdrive, the nauseous feeling swirling in his stomach that always followed adrenaline dumping into his system.

Jackson shook him off. “What the fuck, man?”

“You’re had enough.”

Jackson shook his head, that stupid smirk taunting his brother.

“Let’s get some water or coffee—”

“I don’t want coffee.”

“—or fucking ginger ale,” Beckett hissed, his eyes skipping to the door to be sure no one was following them. But it was only Gideon, holding his post at a discreet distance and pretending he wasn’t hearing every word. “This isn’t that kind of party.”

“Yet,” Jackson said, reaching into his pocket for another nip.

Beckett knocked the bottle out of his hand, the small, plastic container skittering across the floor. “It’s a fucking fundraiser for children, Jackie. Get your head out of your ass.”

“If Kat didn’t hold the reins so tight and let us have a little fun—”