When we were several feet away and moving toward the brothel's rear, I muttered, "Why pay him?"

"He's just doing his job."

"I wouldn't have paid him."

"He has a family. There was a photo of them behind the bar. Four more mouths to feed."

"You felt sorry for him."

He took my elbow as he glanced down at me. "I saw you in him. He's human. Like you, he didn't ask to be a part of this."

"Oh," I muttered. "You have a ...