No.
Stinker.
I just hate the type of story where EVERY LAST PERSON met by a protagonist is part of some vast conspiracy crusade against them. Not even halfway through this book it became clear that if Somerset had parachuted from an airplane onto a moving train, then ramped a motorcycle off the train's moving engine, drove that motorcycle on a random route across four state lines, then stopped into a diner at three in the morning, then the diner's waitress would be a Specially Trained Killer who was just waiting for Somerset to arrive.
Goddamn. This book sucked.
Also...a note to All The Writers In The World---here's the grand total of scenes I need to see/read wherein a woman in lingerie gets half raped by an assailant but eventually (or quickly) starts to like him---
Zero.